Cardiac Care
by MTT-VB
Summary: Jim's dad's had a heart attack & car accident.  Both parents are critically injured.  What would happen if Pam went to the hospital in D.C. to help Jim face this crisis?  Chapter 41 up. Pam talks to Jim ... sort of.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

A single teardrop splattered on the table next to Pam's hand. She glanced up to make sure that Jeff wasn't returning to the break room with that damn camera. She was starting to develop a real animosity toward the guy. He seemed to have a sixth sense; for the past few weeks, every time Pam had mustered enough courage to approach Jim, to _really_ talk with him about her feelings, Jeff showed up with the camera perched on his shoulder. It was hard enough to decide what to say to Jim, she absolutely couldn't get the words out knowing that Jeff was capturing every syllable, every gesture, every facial tic to be aired on national TV.

Pam replayed her comments in her mind. _Sorry I almost got you killed. _Yeah, that was good. What the hell kind of opening was that? He _could have broken your nose or something. Crazy. It's just so stupid. I mean, getting back with Roy and everything. I mean, what was I thinking, right?_ Yeah, what was she thinking saying all that to Jim? How did she think he'd respond? _It's completely over now … I am really ... sorry. _Lame, so totally lame.

Pam remembered the caustic tone in Jim's remark, _I'm sure you guys will... find your way back to one another someday. _And the dismissive tone in, _Oh yeah. Don't worry about it. _Caustic, dismissive, insulting, mean. Pam felt hot tears roll down her cheeks as she thought of adjectives to describe Jim's attitude toward her in the past few weeks. He perplexed her, really. He'd become so distant lately … most of the time … but other times he seemed just like the old Jim, her pranking partner, best friend, confidante, the man who made her love him against her will. A tiny smile danced on her lips as she remembered the thrill she'd felt when they'd pranked Andy a few weeks ago. She'd been absurdly happy to feel Jim's fingers brush hers as she passed Andy's phone to him.

And yet other times Jim was outright cruel, in the way that only someone who's loved you and now hates you can be. He knew exactly the comments that would hurt her most and had no compunction about using them against her. He seemed to take special delight in pointedly freezing her out. She thought about how he'd made a point to play out the vampire impersonation in front of her without ever giving even the smallest opening for her to assist. She remembered how lost she'd felt while she watched him dancing with Karen at Phyllis' wedding; feeling crushed as he stared her down, sure that he didn't want her anymore now that he had a more confident, more beautiful woman in his arms.

Really, if she thought about it, Pam knew that even the good moments weren't _real_. He'd only included her in the Andy prank because both Ryan and Karen refused. She was his last resort. She could tell that Jim resisted any meaningful interaction with her with every fiber of his being. He was resolute.

Pam sighed as another tear silently rolled down her cheek. She wished so much that she could just stop loving him. To accept that he'd moved on. Karen was a nice enough person, she mused. She seemed to be good for Jim. In some ways, anyway. He was definitely more successful than he used to be. But Karen didn't seem to make Jim _happy_, Pam thought with a bitter laugh. He'd seemed happier when he was pining for her. Yeah. Right. Dream on. Karen was probably a tigress in bed in addition to all the great qualities Pam could see every day. Face it. He'd. Moved. On.

But.

But still.

Pam had a good buddy in her figure drawing class, Julia. She talked to Julia a _lot_ about … pretty much everything. Well actually, Julia and her boyfriend, Justin. The three got together for a few drinks most Wednesdays after class. Last Wednesday, she'd finally told them the whole sordid story. How she had no idea when her feelings of friendship for Jim morphed into – something entirely _different_; how his smile just made her feel _alive_; how he always knew how to make things better for her, wanted the best for her. How she felt like a _slut_ in those brief moments when she couldn't drown out her thoughts, when she'd find herself wondering what it would be like to make love to Jim. Yeah. She'd definitely gone into way more detail there than she should have.

It was the first time she ever admitted her stupidity aloud. Admitted that she'd been willfully blind. That she felt not only that Roy didn't _get _her, but that he didn't think that it was _important_. That he took her for granted. That her life with Roy had become so detached and unemotional that it had begun to feel more like she was living with a roommate than a lover. That life with Roy cast a gloom over her, like a dusk that never lifted.

For the first time, Pam confessed that every Monday morning, she felt dizzy with anticipation as she waited for Jim to walk through the door. Because, deep down, she knew that he _did_ get her. Because, even though she'd never say it in so many words, she knew he'd do anything for her. And, after 48 hours of dusk, she craved the light he brought to her life.

Pam admitted that she'd steadfastly refused to let herself think about what any of those things meant. That she'd mindlessly clung to the idea that she had to be faithful, that it was wrong to want Jim, that she'd made a commitment to Roy. She'd refused to see that what was wrong was staying with a man who didn't know her anymore, a man she certainly didn't love anymore. She wouldn't even let herself recognize that she didn't love Roy anymore. She managed to delude herself into thinking Jim saw her as no more than a friend. Until it was too late.

Too late. She told them about how Jim had come back from Stamford _attached_ _to someone_. _Sort of seeing someone_ he'd said. How it was all her own fault. She'd been too afraid of his reaction to call him while he was gone. Afraid his reaction would be more or less, _Fuck off, Pam_. And now he was involved with this woman who was totally out of Pam's league – gorgeous, exotic, ambitious, full of self-confidence. And Pam wanted more than anything for Jim to be happy and she just couldn't be the sleaze who'd intentionally try to break up a committed relationship.

Pam had gone on in tearful, drunken ramblings until Justin put up his hand and commanded her to just stop. He'd asked, _Did you think Jim was a sleaze when he told you that he loved you? Oh – of course not? D'ya think maybe you're making Jim's decisions for him? Maybe he has the right to know how you feel and choose what he wants for himself?_ It had stopped Pam cold and made her look at the situation entirely differently.

So.

She had to just arrive a little early every day, before the cameras arrived. Stay a little late every day, after the cameras left. Eventually, she'd find her time. She'd talk with Jim and finally, finally admit the truth. He'd know. He'd choose. She'd live with it.

.

* * *

_Reviews are the stuff of life. You would make me insanely happy if you would leave one! **:-) **_


	2. The Waiting Game

**The Waiting Game**

The day stretched interminably before her. It was a slow Thursday, offering little to distract Pam from the hundreds of minutes she had to endure before she'd reach 5:15. She noted the exact time of irrelevant happenings, as if she could will the day forward by marking the passage of time.

At 11:42, Angela surreptitiously dropped a Baby Ruth onto Dwight's desk. At 12:04 Kelly succeeded in wearing down Ryan's resistance and he took her to lunch. Creed went to the bathroom – and Pam could _swear_ he went into the _ladies room_ – at 12:19, and he didn't reappear until 12:34. Oscar and Kevin played a game of hate ball from 12:58 until 1:13. Pam gloomily noted it all as the day inched along.

At precisely 3:47 Pam's attention was suddenly focused as she heard Karen say, "So, Halpert – you sure you don't want to join me?" Her voice dropped to a sultry purr as she added, "I can make it worth your while. I don't mind waiting for you to pack a few things."

Pam could see Jim's back stiffen and his head shake almost imperceptibly. She couldn't hear what he said, but a glance at Karen's now stiffened posture and pinched expression left little doubt that Jim was not accompanying his girlfriend on her three-day weekend.

At 4:23 Karen shut down her computer and headed toward the door with a clipped, "See you Monday, Halpert."

"Yeah, Monday. Have a good time with your girlfriends."

Pam busied herself with faxes, filing and anything else to force the last half hour of the day to pass. At 4:57 she retreated to the ladies room, hoping, hoping that, if she stayed in there till 5:15, she'd emerge to find Jeff – and his damn camera – gone, but Jim still at his desk. Just to be safe, she waited till 5:17 and overheard Jim say, "Night, Jeff." as she opened the door to the office.

Pam scanned the room to confirm that everyone else had fled the office. Only Jim was left at his desk. Without a word, Pam returned to her desk, trying to gauge Jim's mood and mentally rehearsing possible opening lines. _**I wish you'd stop being so cruel to me. **_Too negative. _**You didn't misinterpret anything. **_Maybe too cryptic? _**I love you, you know. **_Way, way too direct.

Suddenly, Carly Simon's voice pierced the quiet. _**Embrace me you child. You're a child of mine and I'm**_ – Jim pulled out his cell phone and opened it without a glance. "Hi, mom! What's up?" Even with his back to her, Pam could see Jim's relaxed smile. Then, for the second time in as many hours, Pam watched Jim's body go rigid with tension. "Yes, this is Jim Halpert. Yes, I am related to Larissa and Theodore Halpert; I'm their son. Who are you? Has something happened?"

At 5:34, Jim collapsed into his chair.


	3. The Phone Call

**The Phone Call**

Pam watched Jim with a mounting sense of dread. While she could only hear his end of the conversation, the progression of questions, as well as Jim's physical responses told her that something was gravely wrong.

Jim gripped the phone with his left hand and frantically flipped through the pages of a notebook with his right, searching for a blank page. "What do you mean – myocardial infarction?" Pam held up a pen and paper and gestured for Jim to switch his cell phone to speakerphone mode.

"-arction means a heart attack. Your father had a severe heart attack and lost control of his vehicle. Your parents were medevacked here and they did an emergency triple bypass on your father. He also had serious internal injuries and internal bleeding, which complicated the surgery."

The color suddenly drained from Jim's face. "Jesus Christ. What happened to my mother?"

"The SUV rolled several times and your mother was thrown from the vehicle. She has broken bones and internal injuries; there was a fair amount of internal bleeding but now it is under control."

"Oh my God." Jim continued in a whisper, "Were any other cars involved?"

"Excuse me?"

Jim choked on his words as he asked again, "Were any other cars involved? Did they crash into anyone else? Did anyone – die?"

"No, no other vehicles were involved in the crash. Fortunately, your parents were on the beltway after rush hour was over and there were relatively few cars on the road."

Although she was delivering calamitous news, warmth and compassion were in the woman's voice as she spoke to Jim. She spoke slowly and evenly, giving Jim time to absorb the information. As Pam listened to her clear and empathetic explanations, she became convinced the woman was an ICU nurse.

"Jim, I know this is a lot to absorb and what I'm about to say will sound bizarre to you but, in a way, your parents were very fortunate that this happened on the DC Beltway and not somewhere else. Washington Hospital Center is one of the best cardiac hospitals in the world and we have an outstanding trauma unit, as well. If this had happened almost anywhere else, your father would probably be dead. All the surgeons who treated your parents today were pleased with the outcomes of the procedures. I can't say we've gotten them through the worst of it yet, but it is very good news that they are doing as well as they are and we _will_ take very good care of them."

"Washington, DC. Geez, that's four or five hours from here. It'll be close to midnight by the time I can get down there. Will I be able to see them tonight?"

"Absolutely. Immediate family can always visit the CCU. They post visiting hours but we pretty much allow family to visit any time."

"No matter how late?"

"For immediate family, no matter how late."

Pam interjected, "You keep saying immediate family. What about friends of the family?"

"Oh. For non-family, visitation is very restricted. Only one visitor at a time for 20 minutes during the hours of 12 – 2 or from 4 – 6 p.m." The woman continued in a gentle tone, "I don't want to cut you off, but I need to get back to my patients now. Do you have any questions, Jim?"

Jim's voice was tense and clipped as he spoke. "I really can't think straight right now. I'll just pack up and get down there as fast as I can."

"That's a good idea. If it were my parents, I'd make every effort to be here when the doctors make their rounds tomorrow. The different groups make rounds at all different times during the day but the surgeons who worked on your parents tend to come very early. Maybe as early as six in the morning. I'll be on shift until 7 a.m. I have your cell phone number and if _anything_ comes up tonight, I promise I will call you as quickly as I can. Leave your cell phone on until you get here, ok?"

Pam cleared her throat, "Excuse me. Are Jim's parents both in the CCU?"

"Yes, they are."

Jim couldn't understand where she was going with this. They were just in a major car accident, of course they were –

"But you didn't mention that his mom had any heart problems. Is there anything else wrong with her?"

Jim's eyes widened as he mouthed, "What the _hell_?"

"Good observation. No, nothing else is wrong with Mrs. Halpert. The decision was made to put her into the CCU instead of the ICU so that family could stay in one place – at least until Mr. and Mrs. Halpert start to stabilize – to make it easier to communicate with the medical staff. It will be stressful enough for Jim to try to keep up with what is going on with his parents' conditions without having to worry about being with the "wrong" parent while the doctors are doing rounds with the other parent."

Pam bit her lip and nodded in understanding. "Thanks. What did you say your name is again?"

"Nelani Go."

Jim started to pick up the phone. Pam frantically waved at him and mouthed, "THANK YOU. SAY THANK YOU." Jim waved her off in frustration but said, "Thanks for calling me, Nelani. I'll see you before your shift is over."

Jim snapped the phone shut and pushed his fingers absentmindedly through his hair and began to rub his neck. He bounced his heel and bit his lip. Held his head in his hands. Sighed. Said nothing. As Pam watched him, she felt something she'd never felt for Jim before. Protective, almost motherly. She wanted to enfold him in her arms and make everything all right. She'd never seen him look small before and he was shriveling before her eyes. Finally, he groaned, "How the FUCK am I going to do this by myself? I cannot DO this alone."

Pam tentatively laid her hand on Jim's shoulder, unsure whether he'd recoil from her touch. "You won't be alone. Jonathan will be with you."

"Nope." Jim's tone was unmistakably bitter. "Nope. Can't reach him till Tuesday. Last ditch effort to "save his relationship" with Tina. Virtual communications blackout. He wasn't taking a cell phone, wouldn't tell anyone where they were going. Said _nothing can be so important that it can't wait three or four days_. Shithead."

Pam took a deep breath and tried to control the quavering and squeaking in her voice as she offered, "You could call Karen. I know Nelani said she could only visit for short times but I'm sure she'd want to be there for you. She can't be that far along on her drive." With a jolt, Pam realized she'd revealed that she'd been eavesdropping on Jim & Karen's conversation.

But Jim didn't respond to her revelation at all. He shook his head slowly while looking directly over Pam's head. He pursed his lips and declared, "No. Not Karen. She just – can't. Just – not Karen. No."


	4. In It Together

**In It Together**

Pam felt an undeniable flush of exhilaration at Jim's words. _Just – not Karen_. She unconsciously shook her head as she pushed her excitement back down. This was definitely not the time for that kind of melodrama. Jim was about to face the biggest crisis of his life, she was sure of it. He needed unconditional support now – not complications – and Pam was going to make sure he got exactly that.

"Ok, no Karen. Do you have any aunts or uncles between here and D.C.?

Jim did nothing to hide his frustration with her. "Pam, she said immediate family – over and over, I might add."

Now Pam felt a wave of defensiveness wash over her. Wow. Jim could really be a prick when he was stressed. A wry smile skittered over her face and she said evenly, "Jim, your parents' siblings _are_ their immediate family."

Jim looked somewhat abashed as he stammered, "Oh, yeah. You're right. She meant _their_ immediate family, not mine. I guess I'm really not thinking straight."

Pam waited. "And?"

"And what?"

"Do you have any aunts or uncles who could help you now?"

"Oh, yeah. Oh no, I mean. Close by, there's only my dad's younger sister, Penny. And she's kind of a Chicken Little – excitable. My mom calls her The Poodle. She'd be worse than having no one around. I'd have three people to worry about instead of two."

Pam considered Jim's situation. He was about to embark on an unfathomably terrifying and treacherous journey – utterly alone. She couldn't imagine one person's having the strength to bear it. "I could go with you." The shock on Jim's face made her falter. "Just until Jon gets there. So you won't have to be alone the first few days. You said you couldn't do it alone."

Jim searched her face and asked in a gruff whisper, "You would do that for me? Really?"

Without hesitation Pam replied, "Yes, Jim, I'd do that for you. You always used to be there for me when I needed support. For years. This would give me a chance to repay you just a little. And I do know my way around a hospital. _I'd_ like to help _you_ for once."

As Pam spoke, Jim felt the crushing pressure in his chest lessen just a little. "Man, I sure would appreciate having you with me. I'm really freaking out at the idea of walking into that ICU alone."

Pam gently touched Jim's arm. "Jim – I'm not family. We're going to arrive way after visiting hours are over. You'll still have to do that alone."

Jim blanched as if he'd just taken a body blow. "Oh shit. You're right." For the second time, Pam watched a single tear slip down Jim's cheek. He looked defeated and vulnerable. "Maybe you could – be my sister?"

Pam mulled his suggestion over in her mind for a few moments. "That probably wouldn't be a good idea, Jim. If they thought I was a daughter, they might try to involve me in medical decisions or ask me to sign a form or something. Especially if you were away for a few minutes when something came up. Seems kinda risky."

Jim expelled a long, hollow sigh. "I can see that. OK." He paused for a while. "So you'd go all the way down there to be with me and my parents for like 40 minutes a day?"

"Well, I could spend my day in the waiting room, I guess. You could always come out and spend a few minutes with me if you felt like you needed m-" she paused, "some support."

Jim pursed his lips and shook his head sadly. "I dunno, Pam. That's a lot of waiting around for you. And I really, really need someone with me more than that, I think. I don't know if 40 minutes a day would make a difference."

The pair sat together in frustrated silence. Slowly, Jim rose. "Well, I guess I'd better get going. Thanks anyway, Pam. I really do appreciate the offer."

Pam ached to do something – anything – to alleviate Jim's pain. For the second time that day, she began to cry over the devastating gulf that had grown between them. She wrapped her arms around Jim's waist and whispered, "You let me know if you change your mind. I'll do _anything_ to help you, OK?"

As Pam wrapped her arms around him, Jim reflexively encircled her in his own and rested his cheek on her head. The warmth of her body, the gentleness of her touch, her soft hair under his skin … it all felt so reassuring. Comforting. Jim looked ahead to the next five days that he'd have to spend alone with his terror and squeezed Pam tighter, trying to provision himself with enough of her strength to last him through the coming days.

Suddenly, Jim stood erect. "Hey! Could you be my – wife? Just for a few days? Could you do it? Would _that_ work?"

Pam smiled at his ingenuity. "Yes. I think it would."


	5. Preparations

**Preparations**

Jim drove through the dark evening, lost in his thoughts. He'd wanted to just get in the car and head directly to D.C. but Pam convinced him that that would be a bad idea. She said, "Jim, I know you want to get down to your parents right now and you think this is a waste of time but you're going to be five hours from home. Almost six from their house. You are _**not**_ to be able to just change your mind and pick something up next week. It's now or never. We'll meet in two and a half hours and, if you want, we won't stop driving till we get to the hospital. _Believe me_, you want to get this stuff." She'd pressed the list into his hand and spoke with an urgency he'd never heard in her voice before. He couldn't understand why it was so important but he knew he wasn't thinking clearly and figured he should listen to her. So he was headed to his parents' home to find the things Pam told him were important.

It was 7:15 when Jim finally pulled into his parents' driveway. His body felt heavy and fatigued and he hadn't even started to prepare for the trip yet. He turned to the seat beside him to pick up the sheet Pam had given him. He scanned the list, written in Pam's clear hand.

* * *

**YOUR PARENTS' HOUSE:**

**1. Living will – your parents may not have one but, if they do, you want it.**

**2. If there are any Rx meds around, grab them. Med staff will want to know what they've been taking.**

**3. Anything you can find that identifies their doctors. Hospital might want to contact them for medical history info.**

4. A few CDs of each of their favorite music. Happy music, soothing music.

5. One or two books/magazines that each of them likes. Something easy to read out loud. NONE of your dad's technical journals!

6. Your parents' phone book. (Their personal one, not the white pages.)

7. A few family pictures. If they're in expensive/fragile frames, take them out. Don't take them if they're irreplaceable.

* * *

**YOUR PLACE:**

1. Clothes for at least 6 days. Sweaters/shirts/short sleeve shirts. I kid you not. Prepare for winter and summer because some rooms will feel like each.

2. Underwear/socks for at least 10 days.

3. Some books/magazines that you like to read.

4. iPod.

5. Cell phone charger.

6. Cash/credit card/ATM card.

7. Toiletry kit with toothbrush/deodorant etc.

* * *

Pam had highlighted the first three items which were clearly the most important … and he could tell would be the hardest to find. He'd never talked with them about anything like this before. _By the way dad, do you want to tell me where you keep your will and bank statements and such? _Shit. He dragged himself up the steps to the front door and let himself in.

Jim set about rifling through the drawers in the home office, looking for living wills or any kind of medical information. He felt distinctly uncomfortable going through the files, like he was invading his parents' privacy. He wasn't even sure what the hell a living will would look like. And if they had one, it might be in a safe deposit box at the bank or something.

BINGO! In the third drawer he found files with names like "Medical FlexCare - 2006." He ran to the kitchen, where he knew his mom had a stash of plastic grocery bags. He stuffed the entire folders for the last three years into the bag. Crossed item #3 off the list.

He went through the entire file cabinet without finding anything that looked like a living will. He guessed they didn't have one. Maybe Jon would know – whenever he'd finally be able to talk to the bastard.

Prescription meds, now where would they be? Jim figured either the kitchen or the master bath. He found a few bottles in both places and swept them all into the bag without looking at them. The names wouldn't mean anything to him anyway.

The remaining four items on the list seemed just weird to Jim. CDs? Books? It's not like his parents were at the beach on vacation. Screw that stuff. Just get going. Jim headed out to the car and tossed the grocery bag into the back seat.

But…

The extra stuff on the list was not at all the type of thing Jim would've thought of. He'd have grabbed pajamas or slippers. Pam's list was very specific, even if it was somewhat peculiar. It would only take a few minutes to find those things. Jim headed back into the house.

Music was easy. For his mom, Jim grabbed _No Secrets, Cat Stevens Greatest Hits, Hawaiian Slack Key Guitar Masters _and _Alone in IZ World_. His dad had more of a taste for "world music"; for him, he chose _Rodrigo y Gabriela; Café Atlantico; _and _Dead Men Don't Smoke Marijuana_; and, since dad was a Parrothead, _Songs You Know by Heart_. Four each should be enough.

The phone book would be in the kitchen in the drawer under the phone. Yup. Got it.

God _damn_ it was nearly 8:00! Jim charged up the steps to his parents' bedroom to see what books were on their nightstands. They read every night before going to sleep. He was sure he'd find good books there. Ah. Yes. Dad was on one of his devour-an-author kicks. There was a _pile_ of books by Terry Pratchett. He remembered that mom had given dad a bunch of these for Christmas. Said dad just couldn't get enough Pratchett lately, that the books made him laugh and laugh. Jim picked one up – _Mort_ – and leafed through it. Pam had said it had to be good to read out loud.

_Now it curves away towards the great mountain range called the Ramtops. The Ramtops are full of deep valleys and unexpected crags and considerably more geography than they know what to do with. They have their own peculiar weather, full of shrapnel rain and whiplash winds and permanent thunderstorms. Some people say it's all because the Ramtops are the home of old, wild magic. Mind you, some people will say anything._

He flipped through the book and didn't encounter anything that was too tongue-twistery to read out loud. Pratchett was in. Now for mom…

Jim's mother was the family academic and bleeding-heart-liberal. Her nightstand was full of books like The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time by Jeffrey D. Sachs. Books she'd read with a highlighter in hand.

_It is still midmorning in Malawi when we arrive at a small village, Nthandire, about an hour outside of Lilongwe, the capital. We have come over dirt roads, passing women and children walking barefoot with water jugs, fuel wood, and other bundles. The midmorning temperature is sweltering. In this subsistence maize-growing region of an impoverished landlocked country in southern Africa, households eke out survival from an unforgiving terrain…_

_If the village were filled with able-bodied men who could have built small-scale water harvesting units on rooftops and in the fields to collect what little rain had fallen in the preceding months, the situation would not be as dire as it is this morning._

He skipped ahead. _The presence of death in Nthandire has been overwhelming in recent years. _Ok, punt on that. He didn't know what exactly Pam had in mind for these books but he was _sure_ this one didn't fit the bill. On the floor he found copies of _Pride and Prejudice_ and _The Kite Runner_. He grabbed them without further thought.

The only thing left was family pictures. Pam mentioned frames, so she must've meant big ones. They'd gone to Olan Mills a few years ago to celebrate their parents' 25th wedding anniversary. That was a good family picture. Jim's dad was a photography buff and took great family vacation pictures that were littered about the house. Jim took a few out of their frames and headed out with everything in a couple of bags.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he dialed his cell phone. "Pam? Hi. Look, I know I said we needed to leave like half an hour ago but I'm running a little late. Can you meet me at my place in about an hour? Yeah, I got everything. No. Everything except the living will. I couldn't find that. I don't even know if they have one. Ok. Ok. I'll see you in an hour."

Jim drove toward his home, feeling just a little bit better because he was actually _doing_ something that felt constructive. Maybe that list was a good idea, after all.


	6. The Journey Begins

**The Journey Begins**

As Pam merged onto the highway, she tipped her head toward the back seat. "Could you grab those bags out of the back seat? There's a few things I wanted to show you before you try to get some sleep." Jim looked in the back and saw some bags from Staples and Wal-Mart. He opened the Staples bag and pulled out a couple of spiral notebooks. A red one had _**TED HALPERT**_ neatly written on the cover; the blue one had _**LARISSA HALPERT**_. Jim looked questioningly at Pam. "Just pull it all out. We'll talk in a minute." Pam said. Next there were two business card folders. Again, each was titled for one of Jim's parents. There was a pack of pens and and one of colored Post It flags.

One Wal-Mart bag held two small boom boxes. The other contained a lot of bags of various types of candy. "Are you planning to stay till Halloween?" Jim asked. Pam smiled wryly at him. There was Phase 10 and UNO. At the bottom of the bag, Jim found Eucerin moisturizer, a toothbrush, Colgate toothpaste and a stick of Right Guard Xtreme – Fresh Blast. "That's the kind I use – how did you know?" Pam blushed, "It smelled like you, I guess."

Jim turned to toward her and said, "Pam this is one weird conglomeration of stuff. What is it all for?"

Pam motioned backward again. "Grab that manila envelope and read the lists. Things will start to make sense."

Jim turned one more time to the back seat and found a manila envelope marked _**Things Jim needs to learn about hospitals**_. He saw several sheets with Pam's distinctive writing.

* * *

**NURSES**

1. As a patient advocate, the floor nurse is your most important ally. She (usually, but sometimes he) will explain things in _English_ instead of medicalese. She is around the patient the most. She often knows more than the intern who bosses her around.

2. The nurse is _**not**_ a waitress. Don't treat her like one. Learn where the ice machine is. Get it yourself.

3. The floor is often understaffed and nurses hardly have a chance to go to the bathroom, much less take a break to grab something to eat or drink. If you're going to the cafeteria, make a point of asking if anyone would like you to pick something up.

4. Be friendly, learn every nurse's name. No, not every nurse – I mean every nurse who's assigned to one of your parents. When you arrive, introduce yourself to the nurse if she's in the room. Tell her your name, ask hers. Remember it.

5. Turn on the Halpert charm. Smile that smile that makes me melt. Nurses deal with a lot of really dreary, surly people every day. Be as positive as you can, given the circumstances. People can't help responding to that.

6. That said, DON'T FLIRT with the nurses! They're skeeved out by guys who flirt with the staff while their loved one is fighting for their life. (It does happen, really.) Besides, you're married, remember?

7. This all sounds like you're trying to suck up to the nurses? Yes! You are! Give 'em these bags of candy! Seriously, being present for your mom or dad, being kind & respectful to the nurses … it will all promote better care for your parents. It's just human nature to respond positively when you're treated well.

* * *

**DOCTORS**

1. Cardiologists are pretty much heartless. Curious given their choice of specialty. They're also often pretty arrogant. (I guess it takes a supremely self-confident personality to cut open someone's chest and mess with their beating heart.) Don't expect empathy from a cardiologist; you'll just get information. Don't take it personally. Don't ask too many questions. Wait & ask the nurse.

2. Pulmonologists (lung doctors) are often very warm & fuzzy. They'll spend all the time you need to answer questions.

3. Endocrinologists (hormone stuff) & internists (not interns!) are somewhere on the scale between cardiologists and pulmonologists. (I don't know anything about neurologists.)

4. Your parents are critically ill and there are lots of different things wrong with them. There will seem to be a zillion doctors working on your parents. Every specialty will have a group – kind of a little company – like: The Heart Group, Pulmonology Associates etc. Different doctors from each group make rounds every day. You might see four different doctors from the same group in two days. That's why I got the business card folders. Ask every doctor for his/her card and put it in the right folder. You'll have a record of every doctor who's worked with either of your parents that way. You can put notes on the cards so you remember who's who.

5. The doctors don't really talk to each other. Your parent's "chart" will get to look like a phone book. All the doctors' & nurses' notes, test results and everything keep getting added to the chart. When the doctor makes rounds s/he'll read over the chart before walking into the patient's room. This is the extent of their background when they first see the patient. They don't mean to, but sometimes they miss important information.  
That's why it's so important for you to _**BE THERE**_ and talk to them. Take your own notes after you talk so you understand and remember what all of them say. (That's why I bought the notebooks & the Post It flags.) They're the experts but you _**love**_ your mom and dad. You have a much higher vested interest in a "positive outcome."

* * *

**GENERAL HOSPITAL STUFF**

1. When you first see your parents, you will be stunned. There's no way I can prepare you for this, Jim. They will have more wires and tubes coming out of them than seems humanly possible. They'll probably each have 2 – 3 IV poles, crammed with bags of drugs. Monitors will be blinking and beeping. They will look terrible. You may not even recognize them. All I can say is this should be the worst you'll see, God willing. As they get better, there will be fewer tubes & poles. Their wounds will heal and they'll look more like the parents you know and love.

2. They'll be moved around, if they're in the hospital long enough. They may end up on totally different ends of the hospital. You & Jon will probably have to tag team and alternate who you're with. Sometimes hospitals will close a ward for the weekend, depending on how much staff they have. Don't have a heart attack if you go to your parent's room and they're not there.

3. There are lots of other people you'll see on a regular basis: phlebotomists (the people who draw blood), nurses aides, the food delivery people, x-ray technicians. There will be lots of people going in & out of the room all the time. Be nice to them all. Every one of them will help you in some way.

4. You are going to wash your hands so many times they will feel like sandpaper – but raw. Use the Eucerin a lot.

* * *

**HOW YOU CAN HELP**

1. Be present.

2. Be attentive.

3. Be as positive as you can.

4. Learn the terminology. (Another use for those notebooks!) Doctors will treat you with more respect and give you more & better information when you really seem to "get it."

5. Get the hell out of the way when they need you to. If you feel like you're underfoot, you are. Staff will cut you a whole lot of slack about visiting outside of official visiting hours _**if**_ you are cooperative about things like that.

6. Read to your parents, talk to your parents. Play the CDs that you brought. I'm convinced that it helps to keep them connected and really can help them to recover.

7. Tape up those pictures. They'll help you and, once your parents wake up, they'll help them, too. And it helps to make them "real people" to all the staff who come into the room. You can talk about your parents as people instead as of patients.

8. Use that phone book to call some of your parents' friends. Let them know what's happened. I know you're not real religious but it will mean a lot to your parents to know that their friends are praying for them. And, I gotta tell you, I really do think it helps.

9. _**Never**_ get into family arguments in the hospital. I've seen too many families fall into this horrible, dysfunctional dynamic. It's awful for them and everyone around them. I know you're mad as hell at Jon right now but you _**know**_ that he'd have never left if he'd any idea this would happen. You both love your parents and you love each other. You are on the same team, Jim. Remember that.

10. Take care of yourself to the extent that you can. Give yourself a few minutes now and then to rest your eyes. Call Mark or Karen or somebody who can get your mind out of the hospital for a moment. And remember – I'll do anything you need me to do. You'll be there for your parents and I'll be there for you.

* * *

Jim read the lists several times before he could speak. Finally, he turned and softly asked, "Pam. How? Why do you know all this?"

Pam took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. "You remember I told you that my dad died right after I graduated from high school, yeah? Well, he was really sick for about a year and a half before he died. We spent a _lot_ of time in hospitals. It was –" Pam's voice cracked. "It was really bad. It was so hard to watch him and not be able to do anything that would make a difference."

As her tears started to fall, Pam swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She knew this was not a conversation that would go well for either of them. Jim didn't need to hear that she'd watched her father die after multiple heart attacks. She didn't need to relive the experience while she drove him to see his father, who'd just suffered his first.

"You know. I just can't talk about this right now, Jim. It's too hard. Maybe in a few days. Just – not now. You need to try to get some sleep because you're really going to need your energy in a few hours, ok? Can you just try to sleep for a while?"

Pam wanted him to sleep and Jim was willing to feign compliance. Right now he had to agree that conversation was an overwhelming proposition. He needed to think. He was obsessed with two thoughts – and both left him discomfited. He could see how upset she was, ten years after her father's death. She'd written _There's no way I can prepare you for this, Jim … You may not even recognize them. _Jim struggled to push from his mind all thoughts of how dire the situation was for his parents. … _while their loved one is fighting for their life. _They _had_ to recover. Jim tried to imagine his life without his parents and he just couldn't. And, God, that terrible, spiteful, venomous interchange he'd had with his dad – that just _couldn't_ be their final conversation. He'd never be able to live with it if those were the last words his father would ever hear him say.

Jim pushed the thought back. He couldn't deal with it now. He started to think about how astonishing it was that Pam was willing to do this for him. He absolutely didn't deserve it. Not with the way he'd been treating her lately. He'd tried so hard to be indifferent toward her – which in itself would've been bad enough – but he'd been beyond stupefied when she got back together with Roy. It felt like a _third_ rejection. First – on Casino Night, when he'd offered her everything he was and she'd said _I can't?_ Second – during the interminable weeks after he'd heard about her canceled wedding. He'd been ecstatic when he first heard, if a little befuddled that he heard it from Kevin instead of directly from Pam. But he was positive that she'd call and confess that she'd made the worst mistake of her life in letting him go. He made sure his cell phone was always with him and always charged. Didn't want to take any chances on missing that call – the one she never made. It took a long time to accept the bitter truth that, while she'd wised up about Roy, she didn't want him either. So to have her actually _choose_ Roy again, to _choose_ the asshole who never got her, never appreciated her, hell, didn't even want to talk with her. Well. That didn't hurt. It made him blindingly furious. This morning he'd made a point to let her know he could hardly stand to be in the same room with her. He'd lashed out when she made her feeble attempt at an apology. He wanted her to feel small and insignificant, like she'd made him feel.

But here she was. Driving his car to DC so he could try to rest. Taking vacation days, putting her life on hold so she could be there for him. Pam was about to relive some of the worst moments of her life so he wouldn't have to face this ordeal alone. _You __always__ used to be there for me. _She'd said that exact phrase twice. It felt like an indictment. Pam emphasized the _always_ when she said it, but Jim heard, _You always __used to be __there for me_. She'd been trying so hard all these months to rekindle their friendship. He knew she was. And yet he'd rejected her at every turn. It wasn't her fault that she didn't love him. God. He knew now that it's impossible to will yourself to fall in love. Or to fall out of love.

Jim sighed. He was awed and humbled that Pam would do all this for him. But it killed him to think she was doing it out of sense of obligation. He _always used to be there_ for her because he was in love with her. He didn't want Pam to be there for him out of debt.

For her part, Pam was straining to contain her mounting panic. She really wanted to help Jim, she did. She ached all over when she tried to envision Jim's spending five days alone in the CCU with his parents. She tried to imagine being alone with the mesmerizing beeps and blips of the monitors, the incessant clicking of the pump on the feeding machine, the whirs and hisses of the ventilator, the endless parade of medical professionals who speak an English you can't understand, the boundless fear and remorse you feel as you watch someone you love slipping away. She remembered all these things and tried to grasp what it would be like to cope with them all alone. Hell, if Andy had received that call tonight, she'd probably be doing the exact same thing. She could never sentence anyone to that solitary hardship. A tear trickled down her cheek as she stole a glance at Jim. Thank God. He was sleeping. He'd need all the reserves he could store up for the days ahead.

Her agitation grew as Pam thought about the scene they would encounter when they entered the CCU. She remembered her father's form, pumped so full of fluids that it seemed his skin should burst. She remembered his fingers, so swollen that he couldn't bend them, looking like hot dogs on the grill in the moment right before they pop. She remembered many one-sided chats with her father – who had always been an animated conversationalist. It was bad when he was unconscious but it was utterly heart-rending when he was "there" but yet not. She dreaded reliving all these moments with Jim.

Pam's father had his first heart attack shortly after her seventeenth birthday. Shortly after she'd started dating Roy. He was in and out of hospitals for nearly a year and a half before he died. Her dad had always been the anchor of the family, the one everyone moored themselves to when facing a crisis. As he lost his strength, it became apparent how trivial all those crises had been. Lost girlfriends, being cut from the soccer team, broken arms. Nothing she and her brother had fretted over amounted to anything in the face of losing their father. Their lives unraveled as they grappled with the impending loss.

Roy was Pam's oasis for those eighteen months. He held her without asking questions when she cried. He decided what they did on all their dates, and she didn't have to think. He didn't talk about feelings, which suited Pam just fine because she wanted to be numb. He called her Pammy, like her father did when she was small. It was ironic that the things drew Pam to Roy at 17 were the very things that drove her away at 27. But the thing was – he'd been at her side when she'd fought her way through hell, and they came out together at the other side. That shared history made it so hard to leave him. He'd supported her through the worst crisis of her life and she was plagued with guilt at the thought of leaving him behind, even if he did still treat her like that 17 year old girl. How do you tell someone you're leaving him for the very reasons you wanted him in the first place?

Pam drove on, engrossed in her grief and anxiety. She didn't see Jim start to fidget as they approached Harrisburg. His exaggerated yawn and stretch went unnoticed as they crossed the Susquehanna. In York, she didn't even hear him ask, "Uh, Pam? Can we take five at the next gas station?"


	7. With This Ring

**With This Ring**

They stood in awkward silence at the Sheetz deli counter, waiting for their Ham & Cheese MTOs. Pam shifted her weight from leg to leg as she agonized over how and when to give Jim the ring. She had to do it soon. They had to talk about the details of their "marriage" … just in case. She was dreading having to say what she planned but she just didn't see any other plausible approach. She fingered the ring in her pocket, ruefully reviewing the choice she'd made. It had seemed such a good idea at the time. The quote inside the ring made her think it would magically hold Jim in a mystical embrace, strengthen him with her love, somehow, and he wouldn't even know it. What a load of crap. She stole a glance at him. He didn't want her love, not anymore. He might be willing to accept her friendship, now that he needed it. But the ring? That was over the top. She should've bought the plain one. She could _not_ just hand it to him. She had to think of a way to put it on him so he wouldn't see the inside. And just pray to anyone who might listen that he wouldn't take it off in her presence. She was pretty sure she didn't want to see the look on his face when he read the inscription.

* * *

As they settled into the car Pam asked, "Hey, could you just set those bags on the floor for a minute?" Jim gave her a perplexed look but set the MTO bags on the floor. "Ok. Gimme your hand, Halpert." she said, gesturing to his left hand. He stretched his palm out toward her. Pam gently took his hand in hers and turned it over so it rested in her palm. She slipped the band onto his ring finger with the words, "With this ring, I thee wed. In sickness and – hopefully, soon – health. Till Jon's appearance do us part."

Jim's eyes were wide with shock. He felt his whole body flush as the ring slid up his finger; he was sure Pam could feel his hand trembling in hers. How had he not anticipated this when he asked her to _pretend to be his wife_ for a few days?

"You bought us bands? I never would've thought of that."

Pam replied, "I bought you a band. I bought me a CZ bridal set." As she removed the rings from the box and began to put them on, Jim raised his hand to stop her. Taking the rings into his right hand, he gestured for her left; he cradled her soft palm in his and gently pushed the small rings up the length of her finger, as he repeated the vow. "With this ring, I thee wed. In sickness and – hopefully, soon – health. Till Jon's appearance do us part."

For a moment the pair sat in stunned silence. Jim studied Pam's features, bathed in the fluorescent glow of the convenience mart. How could the words feel so real when they'd exchanged rings surrounded by people who were pumping gas and buying Red Bulls and coffee and Milky Ways? He fought the urge to tip her chin toward him and lightly brush her lips with his. She'd probably turn to give him her cheek.

Pam abruptly shook her head and shoulders, as if she was shrugging something off. Glancing toward Jim, she said, "Well, I guess we'd better be moving." She started the car and pulled back onto the road. "I did a little research. I was kinda worried about our cover, with the documentary and all. It's lucky for us that it's on PBS. I'm sure it doesn't have a _huge_ audience. It's not like "The Apprentice" or something. I checked the website and the Washington and Baltimore affiliates never even picked up the show, so chances are hardly anyone will recognize us."

Jim gasped sharply. Fuck. He'd never even considered the idea that someone might blow their cover. "My God. I never thought of that. What if anyone's seen the show and knows we're not married?"

Pam sucked in a deep breath. This was the moment she'd been dreading.

"I thought of that. You know the show airs on a four week delay. We'll just say that a month ago, when we were away from the cameras, I finally admitted that I've been in love with you – for years now. I confessed that I made the worst mistake of my life when I let you go last summer. I told you how much it hurts to watch you and Karen every day and that I know now how much I hurt you when I pretended not to see that you loved me."

Pam faltered momentarily. No matter how he reacted, she had to keep going with the rest of the plan.

"OK, you have to just go with me here. OK?" Pam looked directly at Jim for a moment and quickly turned her eyes back to the road.

"And when you heard all that you – um – you realized that you still love me, too. That, as much as you've been _trying_ to love Karen, it was never going to happen." Pam carried on, staring steadfastly at the highway before her. Oh God, how was he reacting to this fantasy she'd come up with? The car was dark and she could barely see his profile, much less his expression.

"You broke up with her as sensitively as you could. And two weeks ago, we eloped. By the time anyone figures out that it's not true, I'll be long gone. Hopefully, we all will."

Pam exhaled slowly. It was terrifying to tell Jim the truth, even in the guise of a stealthy cover story. The car suddenly felt very, very small. She could hear Jim's rapid breathing but he wasn't _saying_ anything. He was probably just trying to think of how to break it to her that no one would ever fall for this stupid story because he was so clearly in love with Karen. Pam finally turned her head slightly to look at Jim. A car passed in the other direction, the flash of its headlights briefly illuminating Jim's face. He was staring at her with a look that she couldn't decipher at all. She always used to know exactly what Jim was thinking – he shared his thoughts freely with her with his eyes. She used to think he couldn't help it. But it turned out he did know how to block her from his mind. Since he'd returned from Stamford, Pam just could not read his face. So she waited for his response.

Jim sat silently, dumbfounded by the alibi Pam had weaved. How was it possible that she'd said everything he ever wanted her to tell him, and yet not meant a word of it? Having to recount _that_ as their cover story? Well, that would be unspeakably painful. But he had to admit it worked. It was really the only story that _would_ be convincing to anyone who'd seen the documentary. He turned to Pam. "You're right. That'll work. Count me in."

He didn't have a choice. He'd just have to live with it.


	8. Don't Get Lost

**Don't Get Lost**

Pam drove through the darkness. She concentrated on driving smoothly, changing lanes only when she had a lot of space, keeping a good distance from the car ahead of her, braking gently and only when taking her foot off the gas wasn't enough. She listened intently to Jim's even breathing. The darkness and the car's motion had finally lulled him into sleep. But it wasn't a good sleep, that she knew. She could feel his agitation with every little jerk of his head or twitch of his arm or leg. It was probably the only sleep he was going to get for the next 48 hours, though, and Pam was fiercely protective of it.

She waited as long as possible and pulled over to turn on the GPS that Justin had insisted she borrow. She'd printed Google Maps for the route but she did have to agree with Justin … she wouldn't be anywhere _near_ peak mental function by the time they approached D.C. And she definitely had to agree that Jim did _not_ need the added stress of getting lost tonight.

Justin had programmed the hospital's address and showed Pam how to use the GPS. He assured her that it was ok to keep the device, for as long as she needed it. Pam thought about how lucky she was that she'd gotten to be friends with Justin as well as Julia. He was such a _guy_ friend – always pragmatic, clear eyed, solution oriented. When Pam had called to cancel their movie the next night, Julia had been lavish in her sympathies, saying innumerable variants of "Poor Jim." Pam heard Julia explain the situation to Justin and his immediate response, "I'm taking the TomTom over right now." He was dry and matter of fact as he explained how to use the TomTom. No cooing. No sympathizing. His mission was to ensure that Pam and Jim wouldn't get lost tonight.

Pam smiled to herself as she pulled back onto the highway and the TomTom began to direct her in a lilting Aussie female voice. The voice was so congenial. Pam tried to imagine the woman who belonged to it. Twenty-five or so, she decided. Thick auburn hair. Tall and self-confident, she was sure. Beautiful in a mother nature kind of way. Funny as hell. Sexy and seductive.

Pam still thought sometimes about Jim's trip to Australia. She always wondered how many beautiful women he'd had sex with – she was sure they were all beautiful. How many women he'd had _meaningless _sex with. She drove him to that, she knew, and she hated herself for it. Now that she was on the receiving end of the treatment, it astonished her that she ever could have been so thoughtlessly cruel to him. For the past five months, she thought she had some understanding of the hell she'd put Jim through. Watching him and Karen every day was horrible. Some days she felt nauseated for the entire work day. Eight solid hours of churning. She thought she finally understood the frustration she'd made him live with for years.

She knew better now though. It wasn't until after Phyllis' wedding that Pam really understood the crushing emptiness and despair she'd subjected Jim to. He'd flirted with her at the bar, for God's sake. "_I'm such a dorky dancer." _He'd smiled _her smile_. Checked. Her. Out. "_Yes. And it's very cute." _She'd still felt elated when he left her at the bar. Her body was humming with excitement. Cute! He said she was cute! She couldn't help but hope that, deep down, he still felt their connection. So when she saw him with Karen in his arms, smiling warmly down at her, it felt like the bottom fell out of her stomach. She couldn't tear her eyes away from them – but she was sure that, if she continued to watch, she'd vomit in her lap.

So she'd fled, feeling Jeff's camera trailing her as she hurried to the women's room. Once she reached the safe, cameraman free zone she camped out in the handicapped stall. She sat there, staring at the toilet paper dispenser and willing herself not to cry. Amazing. Here she was at her own wedding, with a 50-year old, overweight woman playing her part. And what was driving her to tears? The fact that Jim had given her this teeny glimmer of hope that he might still care about her – and then snuffed it out moments later. He had no right to fuck around with her mind like this. If he didn't want her, he sure as hell shouldn't flirt with her.

Pam's anxiety heightened as she tried to imagine a clean escape from the reception. She couldn't let Jeff find her. He'd try to get her to do a talking head and no way she could do that without breaking down. She couldn't let Jim find her. She'd totally lose it if he flirted with her again. If she saw Phyllis, she'd have to rip her headpiece off. Then she'd heard him, "_Hey, Pammy – you ok? You been in there a long time now. You have too much to drink? I've been waitin' for you to come out for a while now. You ok?"_

She'd felt overwhelmed that _Roy_ was the one who noticed her escape, that _he_ was the one who cared enough to stand watch outside the women's room for 20 minutes, that _he_ was the one wanting to take care of her. She knew Roy wasn't what she wanted but she danced with him – and she went home with him. Dammit, she used him. And then, like always, she couldn't even own her actions. Rather than admit to herself that she'd used Roy, she tried to convince herself that she really wanted to get back together with him. But it was never right. Roy could never fill the hole that was in her heart.

For a long time, whenever Pam thought about Phyllis' wedding, the only phrase that came to mind was _He had no right_. She mentally recited it – like a mantra – as her anger built to a deafening, unsustainable crescendo. For, even as she condemned him for leading her on with his little flirtation at the bar, other images would come to her mind, unbidden and unwanted. _Jim, you can tell me anything … You have very nice teeth … Now you have it coming! … You were such a dork! … Swaying isn't dancing_. … Her anger would suddenly evaporate and she'd be left with a quiet, sad realization. _I'm a bitch, I'm a total bitch. I toyed with him for years. I'd flirt all day long and then leave him like he meant nothing to me._ In these days after the wedding, Pam finally understood – and accepted – what she'd done to Jim.

Lost in her thoughts, Pam responded automatically to the lovely, lilting Aussie voice. Again, she didn't notice Jim start to rouse. Didn't register when he started talking to her.

"– GPS?"

Jim lightly poked Pam on the arm. "Hey, are you ok? You still awake?"

"What? Oh, yeah, just thinking I guess. Did you ask me something?"

"Yeah. When did you get a GPS, Beesly? Been taking a lot of road trips lately?"

"Oh, that. It's not mine. My –" Pam hesitated as she started to say "My friend's boyfriend." Justin _wasn't_ just a friend of a friend, dammit. "_My_ _friend_, Justin, lent it to me for the trip. He wanted to make sure I didn't get us lost in D.C. in your fancy Saab."

In the darkness, Pam couldn't see Jim's frown.


	9. The Arrival

**The Arrival**

"Hey, Pam? Didn't we want to park in that garage?"

"Not tonight. We're going up there…" Pam pointed ahead, "…to the emergency room parking." Jim tilted his head at her quizzically. "At this hour, it'll be the only way in."

As she parked the car Pam told Jim, "Grab the meds you picked up at their house. We should take them in with us. We can get the rest of the stuff later." They followed the signs pointing toward the emergency room. When they entered, the pair stopped dead in their tracks. The waiting area was teeming with people of all ages and nationalities. The room was a cacophony of sound: A woman was arguing loudly in Spanish with her – mother? A group of Asians surrounded an elderly man, speaking in a nasally dialect that was unintelligible to Pam and Jim. A weary young mother was hushing her flushed, wailing toddler while she tried to end the shoving match that had broken out between her two older children – who were evidently both healthy and out of patience. On the far side of the room sat a bunch of menacing looking thugs, swearing a LOT and glaring a challenge for anyone in the room to call them on it. By the door was a man moaning as he cradled his abdomen. Over it all was the staccato wa-wa-waa-wa-waaa cry of a newborn baby. In the midst of the chaos, sat a large, burly D.C. cop, a billy club and very large gun prominently holstered at his hips. In all her trips to Scranton's Mercy Hospital ER, Pam had never seen anything like it. She took a deep breath and strode up to the check-in desk, hoping that she appeared more confident than she felt.

"Can you please direct us to the CCU?"

The woman behind the desk announced in a bored tone, "Visiting hours are over, miss."

"I understand that but our, um, our parents were in an accident today and we had to come from Pennsylvania. We were told we could visit no matter _what_ time we arrived."

The receptionist was unimpressed. "Visiting hours are over."

Pam was growing frustrated. She leaned over the desk. "But we're immediate family. They said –"

"Visiting hours are OVER." The woman spoke sharply and gave the cop a look that said _Do something about this._

Pam looked over at Jim. She could see veins beginning to pop up on his jaw and his right hand quickly clenching and unclenching into a fist. She glanced over at the policeman, who was watching their conversation intently. Shit, this she did not need. She quickly grabbed Jim's hand. "Come on."

"Pam _what_ are you doing?" he hissed. "We didn't drive for five hours to spend the rest of the night sitting in the damn ER and waiting for visiting hours!"

Pam leaned into Jim's side and whispered, "I know that, Jim. Trust me. I'll get you in." She pulled Jim through the automatic door to the outside and extended her hand toward him. "Cell phone, please." She scrolled through the last few received calls and hit the SEND button. "CCU, please." She paced while she waited to be connected. "Hello? Can I please speak with Nelani Go if she has a minute? She's with a patient? That's fine. Would you rather I call back? No. No, I can hold. That's fine." Pam gave Jim a small smile of encouragement, rubbed his arm and continued pacing.

"Hi, Nelani. This is Pam. Oh, sorry. Pam –" she paused momentarily. "– Halpert. Yeah, his wife." Pam glanced over at Jim to see him shake his head while he stared down at the ground. This was not going to be easy. She forced herself to speak in a light, friendly tone. "Jim and I are here but we can't seem to get past the ER reception desk. Is there a secret password we need or something? You could? Oh, that would be _great_, Nelani! We'd really appreciate it. Jim's going nuts down here. So, once we get past the ER, how do we find our way to the CCU? Uh huh. Uh huh. Ok. Yeah. Fifth floor. Follow the red line. Got it. We'll be right up. Thank you _so_ much."

Pam smiled sweetly at Jim as she clicked the phone shut. "Mission accomplished. Nelani's going to call the moron at the front desk and tell her to let us in." She rubbed his arm again, "Not much more waiting, ok?"

Jim smiled wanly back. "Yeah. Thanks, Pam. I was about to reach across the desk and choke that woman."

Pam laughed wryly, "Oh, yeah. I was totally thinking that we needed Dwight to rush the desk with a can of mace." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Pam knew she'd made a mistake. Holy God, what the hell was _that_? What was she thinking? Jim was _barely_ succeeding in maintaining control over his emotions – he certainly didn't need to be reminded of _that_. She'd felt his stress mounting in the last half hour of the drive and this little scuffle over getting past the ER had left him very much on edge. Pam wanted – no, needed – to soothe Jim's tension. Such a stupid thing to say. When Jim smiled a rueful little smile, Pam sighed in relief and cautiously rubbed his back. She turned off the phone and handed it back to him. "Come on, I'm sure Nelani's called by now."

Taking Jim's hand firmly in hers, Pam headed back into the ER. She raised her eyebrows and smiled expectantly at the grumpy woman at the reception desk. "Go ahead." was all the woman would say. Pam shrugged her shoulders in a wordless question. "Through those double doors." The woman gestured apathetically across the room. Pam gave the woman a frosty look as she pulled Jim toward the doors. She wasn't about to give the receptionist a moment to change her mind. As they passed through the door, the woman hissed under her breath, "Visiting hours ARE over."

Pam tossed one last glance over her shoulder as she threaded her fingers through Jim's, "Whatever."

Pam looked Jim over. He was again starting to show signs of nervousness. Running his free hand through his hair. Blinking quickly. Licking and biting his lips. Pam slowed her pace. There was nothing to gain by rushing to the CCU 45 seconds sooner. Jim needed help to reduce his agitation so he could focus when he finally reached his parents. She leaned over and nudged his arm with her shoulder. "Hey. How are you doin?" she whispered as she brushed his hand with her thumb.

"Not so good, I guess. I'm pretty – scared – to tell you the truth."

"Yeah. Me, too." Pam laced her fingers through Jim's and gave his hand a little squeeze.

They zigzagged their way through corridors in silence, turning right and left. Took an elevator to the fifth floor. As they exited, Pam pointed at the inch wide lines of colored linoleum in the hallway. Black, red, yellow and blue lines all touched each other, leading in the same direction down the corridor. "We follow the red." Jim nodded numbly. Pam lightly held Jim's hand as she set an even, deliberate – quick, but not rushed – pace. For a while, all the colors drew the same path through the corridors of the fifth floor. Then the black line peeled away, down a hallway with a sign that said NUCLEAR MEDICINE.

After a few more turns, the red line diverged from the blue and yellow. They followed the red line down a hallway that ended with double doors with a sign above them: CARDIAC CARE. There were no knobs or handles on the doors. Jim stiffened as he stared at the doors. Pam turned to face him full on. God, she just wished she could make this all go away. To spare him what he was about to walk into. "Hey." She placed both hands on his upper arms, absentlessly brushing her thumbs on his sleeves. "You ready for this?"

"Not really – but it's not like I have a choice, is it?"

Pam nodded as she gave him a small squeeze with both hands. She strode up to the doors and pressed the six inch square red button that was mounted on the wall. With a deep hum, the doors slowly opened, one swinging in and the other swinging out.

The cavernous room on the other side of the doors was brightly lit and quietly abuzz with activity. Jim blinked as he stepped into the room. It was like an oversized donut, with a huge nurse's station at the center. The circumference of the room was a ring of cubicle sized rooms with one patient in each. Perched at the juncture of every other room, was a tall wheeled stool and a laptop mounted on a high wheeled base. Nurses sat at some of them, tapping onto the keyboards. Other nurses moved about in the patients' rooms: one mounted a bag of clear liquid on a pole by the patient's bed, another washed her hands at the sink in the cubicle, a third adjusted something on a patient's body.

Jim's gaze swept past the nurses on to the patients. He shuddered as he absorbed the view. Universally, the patients looked barely alive. Most were gray and thin and gaunt. One absolutely huge man appeared to be in his forties but he didn't look any healthier than the old people. Jim scanned the patients again. How could they have so many tubes coming out of them? Most had tubes poking out of their mouths, white tape criss-crossed across their faces to fix the tubes in place. Some had thin tubes jammed up their nostrils. It all looked so painful, he had to turn away for a moment. IV tubes were coming out of people's chests and arms. Two men had dark, huge, deep purple and yellow bruises on their arms. Jim began to blink back his tears as he realized that his parents surely were this sick, too – probably, scarcely clinging to life.

A young Asian woman dressed in pastel scrubs approached them. Her long hair was drawn back from her face in a soft bun. The smile in her eyes was full of compassion. "Jim? Pam? Hi, I'm Nelani."

"Oh, hi." Jim's voice began to crack as he tried to speak. He gulped to give himself a moment to get a grip on himself. He blinked hard to stop the tears that threatened to fall. "Thank you so much for calling me today. How are they doing?"

"Well, let's see your mom first." Nelani led Jim and Pam to the opposite side of the room where a nurse was typing at a laptop. "This is Michele – she's your mom's nurse tonight. Michele, this is Jim and Pam Halpert. Jim is Mr. and Mrs. Halpert's son."

Michele stepped off the high stool to greet them. "Hi, Jim. Pam." she said as she nodded to each of them. She paused for a moment as if she was assessing something about them. "Jim, what do you know so far about what happened to your parents today?"

"Not much, really. Just what Nelani told me on the phone. Dad had a heart attack and lost control of their SUV. When it rolled, mom was thrown out and she was hurt. That's all we know."

"OK. Well your mom suffered some broken bones. She took the impact pretty hard on her right side." Michele pointed to her right shin. "The tibia and fibula on her right leg were broken in three places." Her radius and ulna –" Michele motioned over her right forearm, "– were shattered. She has a LOT of hardware now. Your mom suffered some internal injuries as well. The most serious was a bruised spleen. She was really lucky. The rupture was small enough that the surgeon could repair it instead of having to do a splenectomy and remove it. Your spleen is NOT like your appendix … you don't want to lose it! She has also developed some hematomas."

As Michele described Mrs. Halpert's injuries, Pam shifted her attention back and forth between the nurse and Jim. She paid close attention not only to Michele's commentary but also to how Jim was receiving the information. She watched confusion settle on Jim's face at the mention of terms like splenectomy and hematomas; she quickly interjected, "Hematomas are like big bruises on the inside of the body. They're from internal bleeding."

"Exactly. So we'll be monitoring your mom for anemia over the next few days because we want to be very sure that the internal bleeding has ceased. Overall, though, your mother was incredibly fortunate in this accident. It's very common to have head or spinal injuries when thrown from a vehicle like she was. She's in serious condition but it could have been far worse." Michele waited a moment for Pam and Jim to process what she'd told them. "Do you have any questions before you go in to see her?"

Jim moved his mouth as if to ask a question but nothing would come out. He turned questioningly toward Pam. She nodded at him and turned toward Michele. "Is she conscious? Is she in a lot of pain?"

"Right now she's pretty heavily sedated, so she isn't in any pain. Actually, right now she's sleeping, which is good. She needs that. I've been trying to let her sleep as much as possible and work on her only when she's already awake. We can do that up here, since we each only have two patients."

Michele cocked her head and listened intently. "Excuse me. I have to take care of something in my other patient's room. I'll be over in a few minutes if you have more questions. Go ahead in but try not to wake your mother please."

With that, Michele ducked into the next room, leaving Jim and Pam alone. Up till this point, Jim had managed to position himself so that he could not see into his mother's room. He looked at the door and shut his eyes tight. He tried to take a step toward the door but it was as if his shoe was nailed to the floor. Pam slipped her arms around his waist and nestled her head under his chin. "Jim. You can do this."


	10. Larissa

_I'd like to thank **TaioraWarrior **for inspiring me to keep posting more chapters to this story with his/her reviews. And thanks to **dundermifflinite55 **for taking the time to leave a note on the last chapter. It means a lot to the writer when a reader takes a moment to share their thoughts._

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**Larissa**

Jim held Pam tight, his long arms encircling her shoulders and then some – till his hands came to rest on the soft flesh under her arms, nearly at her breasts. He nuzzled her hair softly, breathing deeply as if it would help him when he turned to go into that room.

Pam waited silently for Jim to decide he was ready to meet his broken mother. She felt him nod his head atop hers. As he exhaled sharply into her hair, she felt his back stiffen beneath her arms. Jim straightened to his full height as he released her. "OK. Let's do this." He turned and strode into the tiny room.

Before even Pam reached the doorway, she heard Jim whisper, "Oh, my God." She entered the room to see Jim staring wide-eyed at his mother, blinking back his tears. Larissa Halpert's face was bruised, swollen and bandaged; her hair, matted to her scalp. Her right calf was wrapped thick, with only a small portion of her foot protruding from the bandage – so grotesquely swollen and purple as to look positively inhuman. Her right hand and forearm were similarly wrapped and deformed. Under the hospital gown, a small bulge protruded on the left side of her ribcage. Open abrasions were scattered over her body. She looked nothing like the distinguished woman who smiled from the family pictures Pam had seen at Jim's house so long ago.

Pam's gaze reflexively swept over the room. Only one IV pole. BP 130 over 78. Pulse ox 98. No ventilator – not even a nasal cannula. No feeding tube. Urine collection bag had a good amount of fluid, fairly yellow and not too much blood. Mrs. Halpert's face looked relaxed. Pam stepped out of the room briefly to look for any signs posted on the door. None. No NPO. Nothing about any special precautions. All in all, pretty good, Pam thought to herself as a sense of relief washed over her.

Pam turned her attention back to Jim, who was standing at the foot of the bed, tears freely streaming down his cheeks. He bit his lower lip as he turned to Pam and whispered, "Holy shit, Pam, she looks so _bad_. She – " He stopped himself, turning away from his mother and pinching the bridge of his nose. The gesture was oddly reminiscent that day she'd jinxed him so long ago. He'd turned away – just like this – pretending to swallow his words as he'd feigned distress about a relative whose life was ruined by drugs. Pam had always remembered that moment fondly. It felt _very_ different to see the same expression on his face tonight.

"C'mere. Sit down." Pam took Jim's hand and led him to the single chair in the room. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Pam stood beside him and soothingly rubbed his back as he cried silently, lost and alone in his grief. His solitary pain was more than Pam could bear.

"Hey." She lightly combed her fingers through his hair. When Jim looked up at her blankly, she opened her arms to him. Gratitude mixed with the sorrow in his eyes. He nodded his acceptance and buried his face into her breast as his body shook with silent sobbing. Pam wrapped her arms around him, pressed her lips to the top of his head and rocked him gently as her own tears started to flow. She rocked him until his sobbing subsided.

Pam stroked Jim's back as she whispered, "Hey" into his hair.

"Yeah?"

Lightly kissing the top of Jim's head, she released him and crossed the room to grab the box of half-sized tissues that is found in every hospital room. She took one and handed the box to Jim as she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

"You want me to tell you what I see here, Halpert?"

Jim looked at her mournfully and nodded wordlessly.

Pam's voice quivered slightly as she began. "OK. I know your mom looks terrible to you but there's actually a lot about this room that says she's doing pretty well, considering." She pointed to the IV pole. "First of all, there's only one IV pole. Two of the bags on it are saline and an antibiotic, so they're only giving her two IV meds. That's really good."

Pam gestured toward Larissa. "Your mom doesn't have a feeding tube and there's not an NPO sign at the door." Jim looked at her quizzically. "NPO stands for 'Nothing by mouth' in Latin. I can't remember the Latin words but that's what it means. Your mom probably won't like hospital food but it's _fantastic_ that she's going to be able to eat it."

Pam nudged Jim's shoulder with her hip and pointed at the monitor suspended over the bed. "See that O2 number? Her pulse ox is 97, which is great." With each observation, Pam's voice grew stronger. "That means the level of oxygen in her blood is high. 99 is as high as the readings go. And she's doing it on her own without any breathing support at all. Not even a nasal cannula."

When Jim tilted his head questioningly, Pam added, "That little tube that they put under your nose. With the tiny prongs for each nostril?"

As Jim nodded his understanding, Pam pointed again at the monitor. "They definitely want that O2 number to stay over 90. If it drops and gets close to 90, they'll put her on a nasal cannula until the reading goes back up and she can do it on her own again. They measure the oxygen with that clothes pin contraption on her finger."

Pam pointed back at the monitor. "You mom's blood pressure is 135 over 80 now. That's not too bad. Her pulse rate is 78, also pretty good."

Pam nodded her head at the flat, clear receptacle that was hooked to the side of the bed. A thick tube extended from it and snaked up under Mrs. Halpert's hospital gown. "Foley catheter." Pam said. "They empty that container on a regular schedule. I don't know how long it's been but that is _really full_. And _that_ is really important because it means your mom's kidneys are functioning. They pay a _lot_ of attention to kidney function."

Pam returned to Jim's chair and knelt before him and whispered his name. She took his hand into hers and looked directly into his eyes. "I'm not saying this isn't serious, Jim. It is. And things can change but right now your mom's vital signs look really solid – from as much as I know to look for, anyway."

Pam absentmindedly toyed with the band on Jim's finger a she searched his eyes, looking for any indication that her speech had calmed his nerves, even just a little. It was a double-edged sword, she knew, because Mr. Halpert was likely to be on all the life-supporting measures she'd pointed out were missing in Mrs. Halpert's room. Pam knew that, before she let Jim walk into his father's room she had to make him understand that, while it was really _good_ to not need the support, it _wasn't_ terrible to be on it. She gently rubbed the top of Jim's hand with her fingertips and waited for him to speak.

Sighing heavily, Jim withdrew his hand from Pam's, leaned far back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. His gaze moved around the room, processing the information Pam had given him. "So. You really think she's gonna be OK?"

"Yeah, Jim, I do. Her therapy is probably gonna be hell, I think, with both an arm and a leg broken. She won't be able to use crutches, so I don't know _how_ they'll get her walking again. But I don't think her life is in danger."

"Shit. I didn't think of that. How _will_ she start to walk again?"

"I don't know. But you know what? I am _sure_ your mom isn't the first person who's ever broken an arm and a leg at the same time. The doctors and therapists will know how to help her."

Jim scanned the room, reviewing the details Pam had pointed out. Maybe the situation wasn't as bad as he'd feared. No, it couldn't be. Pam wouldn't lie to him – and _she_ said things looked pretty good. She sure _sounded_ like she knew what she was talking about. His panic receded and a calm settled over him.

Jim took Pam's hand back into his own. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Overwhelmed, Jim's gaze fell to the floor. "I'm – I'm glad you're here with me."

Pam had to agree. There was nowhere else she would want to be right now.

"Me, too, Jim. Me, too."


	11. Pam

I should mention that I've been working on this story for a long time ... started it before we met Jim's brothers. I like my version of his family better than the douchebags we met on the show, so I'm keeping Jim's brother ... Jon ... in my story.

* * *

**Pam**

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to run and find a ladies room. I'll be back in a little bit, ok? It'll give you a few minutes alone with your mom."

"OK."

Pam emerged from Larissa's room and immediately began to scan the CCU for Nelani or Michele. She saw the two of them together across the unit and headed toward them.

"So, any time you need to explain something, make sure his wife is around. She must be a nurse or something. She was explaining to him all about his mother's condition."

Pam looked around for another room with visitors and then realized with a start that _she_ was "his wife." There were no other visitors at 4 a.m. in the CCU. It was going to take some getting used to this role. She had to make sure she didn't blow their cover by responding inappropriately when someone talked about Jim's wife.

"Excuse me. Nelani, Michele? Would you have a few minutes now to talk with me?"

Nelani smiled warmly at Pam. "Sure, Pam. We can spare a few minutes now. Michele tells me you're in the medical field and I should make sure you're around whenever I explain anything to Jim. What do you do?"

Pam blushed deeply and replied, "Oh! God no. I'm not a medical professional at all. Jim and I work together. I'm just a receptionist."

Michele was stunned. "No WAY! You were explaining everything about Jim's mom's condition to him. Everything you said was spot on! How –?"

Pam bit her lip and let out a long, weary sigh. "My dad died of heart disease when I was 18. He was in and out of the hospital for a year and a half. I learned more medical stuff than any teenager would ever want to know. When you hear things enough times, they sorta stick, you know?" Pam blinked quickly as she scanned the CCU. She wouldn't let herself cry already. Nothing had even _happened_ yet. "It's actually kind of overwhelming to be in a place like this again, if you know what I mean."

Nelani and Michele both nodded their silent understanding.

Michele laid her hand gently on Pam's shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad. You're right – no one wants to learn about medicine that way. You're doing a great job of finding something positive in that experience, though, the way you're helping your husband. I could see how much he's leaning on you."

There it was – again. Your husband. Pam's eyes filled once more with fresh tears. She probably could have had that once. Instead, here they were, pretending to be friends and lovers whey they'd barely spoken to each other in nearly a year. But it didn't _feel_ like they were play acting at all. Everything they'd said and done in the last few hours felt _real_. And it felt _right_. Maybe she could hope for something better with Jim – later, when this was all over.

"Pam?"

Pam felt a soft touch on her arm and looked up to see Nelani peering quizzically at her.

"I said what did you want?"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I zoned out there."

Nelani laughed sympathetically. "It's ok. Happens in here all the time."

"Well, what I wanted was – can you fill me in a little bit about Jim's dad's condition? I just basically talked Jim off the ledge in there – and, unless I'm missing something, his mom's in pretty good condition. I kept telling him how wonderful it is that his mom isn't on any life support systems. But I'm pretty sure his dad must be. I need to figure out a game plan before we walk in there." Pam cast an anxious look over her shoulder. "I'm really worried about Jim. I don't think _anyone_ in his family has ever been really sick. I doubt they've even been in a hospital since Jim & Jon stopped earning frequent flyer points for going to the ER with sports injuries, you know? He's gonna freak out."

Nelani nodded her head thoughtfully. "Sure. Do you want to see him?" she said, gesturing toward Mr. Halpert's room.

"No!"

Both nurses jerked back slightly, eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to be so – Well, anyway, no, I think that would be, um, I don't know. Inappropriate? It's just – I don't think I should see his dad before Jim does. I just want to have an idea of his general condition. Does that make sense?"

Nelani pursed her lips. "Yeah. It does, actually. Ok, here's what's going on. Mr. Halpert arrived today in congestive heart failure and having had a myocardial infarction. They did a triple bypass and were generally pleased with the outcome. They inserted a drainage tube into his left lung and we're diuresing him pretty aggressively – 10 liters so far. He's on a ventilator and, of course, NGT. His BP's been erratic – we're having a very hard time regulating it. We're monitoring his progress closely."

"Does he have a central line?"

"Of course."

"Renal function?"

"So far, pretty good."

"Anything else?"

"Well, you're right about Jim's mother's condition. She really is pretty stable. I don't think we'll be able to keep her here for long. She'll probably be moved to 3 West tomorrow."

Pam sucked in her breath. They'd have to start shuttling between his parents. So soon. Oh God! Jim's mom would _wake up_. That was good but – she hadn't really thought about _meeting_ his parents. That detail had totally escaped her attention as she made her notes about how to handle the coming days.

"Pam? You there?"

"Oh, yeah. Zoned again. Wow. I hadn't thought about having to shuttle back and forth between his parents." she lied. She'd thought about shuttling between _rooms_ all right. She just hadn't thought about having to face and talk to the people _in_ them.

"And _that_ about covers everything."

"Ok. Thanks a lot, Nelani. I'd better get back in there. Jim thinks I just went out to the ladies room."

As Pam headed back to Mrs. Halpert's room, she overheard Michele say, "They seem like a really sweet couple." She smiled sadly to herself, wishing it were true.


	12. Music and Sculpture and Pain

_My computer drive crashed and I've had to rebuild it. Luckily, the computer had a utility __to back up my data files!_

* * *

**Music and Sculpture and Pain**

As Pam returned to Larissa Halpert's room, she saw Jim sitting at his mother's side, holding her left hand in his own, stroking it gently as he whispered quietly. He'd pulled the room's single chair all the way to touch the side of the bed and leaned in close, tenderly searching his mother's face as he spoke. He looked desperate to reach into his mother's unconsciousness and touch her somehow. Pam couldn't hear what he was saying, didn't want to really. It wasn't her place to intrude on this moment between mother and son. She could see that Jim was still crying and she recognized the love in his deeply melodic voice. Jim had the most beautiful voice Pam had ever heard. Back when they used to have real conversations, she often lost herself in its velvety reverberations.

Eventually, Jim glanced around the room and spied her in the doorway. He nodded grimly at her and she came into the room.

"Thanks. You were right. I did need a few minutes alone with her. I just, um – I needed to tell her some stuff, I guess."

"Yeah. I understand."

"This is just surreal, Pam. I mean – I've never even seen them sick before. Nothing more serious than like the flu, anyway. I just – I can hardly process it, you know?"

"Yeah. Actually, I do."

"I guess you do. How did you do it? You were – what – seventeen? How did you survive this?" Jim wearily leaned his elbows on his thighs and rested his forehead on his hands.

"Well, I wasn't alone for one thing, Jim. I had my mom and my brother with me all the time. And it was just my dad. I _knew_ for sure that I'd still have my mom when it was all over." Pam stepped behind Jim and massaged his shoulders. "You're in a way scarier situation. You have every right to be freaked out."

"I feel so guilty. I just can't make myself go over to his room. I'm – I'm not ready to see that yet."

"It's OK, Jim. Nothing is going to be different in a few minutes. You're here and that's all that matters. You'll go over when you're ready."

Pam continued to stand behind Jim, her hands lightly resting on his shoulders. She looked about the small room awkwardly, hoping to find any space where she could sit. She couldn't just stand behind him all night.

Suddenly, Jim sighed and leaned back in the chair to rest his head against Pam, moving so quickly that her hands shot forward and fell to rest on Jim's chest, encircling him in a light embrace. Shit! Pam's heart started to race. What should she do with her hands? Before she had a chance to react, Jim closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and nestled himself against Pam. A warmth enveloped Pam as she felt his shoulders relax beneath her arms and his head burrow softly against her breast.

"I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here with me, Pam." He breathed it out so softly, she almost wasn't sure she'd heard it.

Giving him a gentle squeeze, Pam laid her cheek lightly atop Jim's head. "Jim, before we left the office I told you I'd do just about anything for you. I meant it."

"Yeah. I really don't understand that at all. Lately, I've been so, so –"

Pam stood straight, releasing him her embrace. "Cruel?" She said it with absolutely no overtone to her voice. Just like she'd supply the word if he forgot _artichoke_ or something. Jim winced at how matter-of-factly Pam said it. He almost wished she'd be angry. Her resignation felt even more damning. He really couldn't deny it though.

"Yeah. I was thinking distant but cruel is probably more accurate, I guess. I have made a point of being a real shit to you lately." He turned to glance over his shoulder at her. "So – why _are_ you doing this for me?"

"It's pretty simple, Jim. I _care_ about you. And, yeah, I guess you have been a shit since you got back, but we can deal with that later – if you want. You've got a pretty full plate right now and you don't need to be worrying about that, OK?"

Wow! What pocket _was_ she pulling this shit from? She'd tearfully wondered so many nights whether Jim was intentionally hurting her. Even though all the evidence pointed squarely to the contrary, Pam had clung to the belief – the hope – that Jim, _her_ Jim would never hurt her. Pam sometimes applied her favorite Michelangelo quote to Jim: _I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free_. She liked to think that _her_ Jim was somehow trapped inside this new _evolved_ Jim, struggling to get out. That, if she could just find the way to chisel away the cold, lifeless marble mask he'd put on, _her _Jim would emerge again warm and full of life, ready to love her, like Pygmalion's Galatea. She was mixing her sculptural metaphors, she knew that, but it always made her feel better when confronted by Jim's indifference or hostility.

So Pam was stunned and proud that she'd maintained her cool composure in the face of Jim's admission of malice. She wasn't sure she could preserve it much longer, though. Maintaining an even tone to her voice, she said, "You know what? All that coffee I drank on the drive down is suddenly hitting me. I gotta go find that ladies room again." And, with that, Pam rushed out the door.

* * *

_So, if you'd like to see the Michelangelo sculpture that Pam was thinking about, you can copy the text below and delete the spaces. Paste into your browser bar and voila! You'll see the way Pam is envisioning **her Jim** struggling to free himself from evolved Jim._

_Ht tp : / /tiny url . com / 3tkoea_

_I hope someone out there is enjoying this story. If you are, I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you're not, I'd still like to hear from you!_


	13. A Dark Night Continues

**A Dark Night Continues**

Pam fled from Larissa's room and the CCU without even asking directions to the ladies room. She needed to find a spot where she could be alone to think for a few minutes. Wandering up the hallway, she came upon a tiny family conference room and quickly ducked inside, closing the door silently behind her. No one would need this room for hours, so she could take as much time as she needed to regroup.

Pam perched on the edge of an armchair, feet flat on the floor. She folded her hands together and rested them on her knees with her head bent forward, eyes shut tight. Anyone passing by would have thought she was deep in prayer. Pam began to rock back and forth as she tried to decipher what it meant that Jim really had _intentionally_ tried to hurt her. Did he hate her? Could it be that he _did_ still have feelings for her but was still that angry? But that would mean he was using Karen – and Pam couldn't imagine Jim treating anyone that way. Of course, she'd never have thought he could treat anyone the way he'd treated her these last few months.

On the other hand, was his vindictiveness any worse than her willful blindness had been? She thought back to the night when everyone had stayed late, doing a mock "table reading" of Michaels screenplay, _Threat Level: Midnight_. She'd giddily flirted with Jim all night, feeling flush and slightly naughty. She remembered feeling so – much: Basking in Jim's attentions, the jokes that were meant only for her. Feeling a warm tingling sensation as they leaned in to each other, listening to Travis, separated only by the distance from one earbud to another. Being utterly despondent that she could think of _nothing_ else to extend their evening. Fighting the urge to kiss him goodnight.

Yet what did she do the next morning when Jim playfully teased that "some might way we had our first date last night"? She'd panicked and shot him down. Nothing would've come of it if she'd played along with his tease. There was an invisible line that neither Jim nor Pam ever crossed. They both knew where it was. But this day, Pam drew the line a couple of yards short. "Swaying isn't dancing." She actually thought about it and made a conscious _decision_ to say that. What a bitch!

And what about at the basketball game between the office staff and the warehouse guys? She'd spent most of the game checking out Jim's elegant athleticism, his legs – OK, his ass. He was just a joy to watch. Well, _joy_ wasn't really what she'd been feeling if she was honest about it. He excited her – in ways she wasn't ready to think about. She'd had a fleeting image – a sensation actually – of bearing his weight on her pelvis, cupping that firm ass with her hands, kissing him deeply. She _felt _it! Her hands curved; her hips thrust slightly out of her seat. She could feel the moan rising to her lips. And God, did she feel guilty about it. So she made sure to talk to Roy about getting him in the bath while Jim was still within earshot. She'd wanted him to hear it. She was evil.

Yeah, if she thought about it, Pam could come up with a lot of instances when she intentionally did or said things that she knew would hurt Jim. She needed to just get over the martyr thing already. It wasn't as if it was a surprise that Jim had tried to hurt her. She wouldn't have spent the last few months trying to convince herself that it was unintentional if she hadn't known deep down that it was true. Besides, she'd vowed to Jim that she'd be here for him. _With _him, not sulking in a room 200 feet away.

Pam stood up, stretched her back, dropped her chin to her chest and rolled her head slowly in a large circle. Anything to ease some of the tension in her muscles before she returned to him. On the way back to the CCU, Pam made a point to stop in the ladies room. After two purported bathroom trips in such a short time, she'd better not _really_ need a trip for a while.

Twenty minutes had elapsed by the time Pam returned to the CCU. She went to Larissa's room and found that Jim was gone. Shit. Shit. _**Shit**_! This was so not good. She'd wanted to prep him a bit before he saw his father. She saw Michele outside the door and asked, "Did Jim –"

"Yeah, he's been over there for about half an hour – not taking it so well. Your husband definitely needs you, Pam. Nelani's been talking to him but I think he could really use a hug right about now." Michele pointed in the direction of Ted Halpert's room as she spoke.

As Pam approached, Nelani spied her. She placed her hand on Jim's arm and whispered reassuringly, "Pam's here,"

"Great," Jim muttered loudly. "About damn time."

Pam stopped in her tracks, steeling herself for both the sight of Jim's father and for the blind fury of Jim's wrath. She'd lived through enough medical crises that she knew what was coming. She could hear it in Jim's voice – at this point, he was furious and completely irrational. She'd seen his belligerent side twice already tonight – and those were with relatively little provocation. _NO_ telling how long he'd be angry that she'd abandoned him for nearly half an hour. Could be most of the night, now that she thought about it. She'd seen this pattern with her mom and her brother and herself. They each suffered total melt-downs, inflicting outrageous outbursts on each other. It took a while before they understood that the stress of medical crises can make a person totally overreact to everything else. And they each had to figure it out and accept it in their own time.

_Damn!_ How did she forget to put this in the "Things Jim needs to learn about hospitals" lists? Having this on the list of things for him to be on the lookout for would've been really helpful.

Pam stepped into the room and stifled a gasp. Oh, dear God, it was a bad, _bad_ idea to not see Mr. Halpert before Jim. Memories flooded Pam's senses, engulfing her in anguish. She was transported to another CCU, alone with another father, listening to the mechanical, rhythmic sounds of a ventilator and feeding machine, mesmerized by the unnatural rise and fall of his chest. She felt fear press its cold fingers into her chest and slowly wrap them around her heart until it was frozen and constricted and she could hardly breathe. She stood mute in the doorway, tears skimming her cheeks and plummeting off her jaw.

"…You _said_ you'd be right back. It's been almost half an hour…"

Yes, Jim was definitely angry. She heard it in his voice but she just couldn't focus on his words. She nodded dumbly, unable to speak. Jim suddenly glared over at her as he continued his invective. She could tell he was speaking to her. He'd expect some sort of response so she turned to face him, but still couldn't focus to think. She was all emotion, wordless grief.

"Oh my God, Pam! I'm so sorry!" He sprang to his feet and wrapped his arms tight around her. He rocked her in his arms and they swayed together gently. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kissed the words into her hair. "I'm sorry."

Jim led Pam to the single chair in the room. He sat down and drew Pam onto his lap, into his arms. She buried her face in his neck, crying silently. She suddenly looked up at him and said, "No, I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be here to help you. And – and –"

"It's OK, Pam. What was it you said before? You're here and that's all that matters."

Pam nodded sadly and rested her head on Jim's shoulder. Overcome with grief and fatigue, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

A while later, Nelani motioned for Michele to come over. She unfolded a cotton blanked and softly placed it over Pam and Jim. She whispered, "They're gonna feel like crap when they wake up from that position."

Michele shook her head, with a sympathetic look on her face. "What a way to start a marriage."

"What do you mean?"

"They just got married two weeks ago. Eloped. He said his parents don't even know it yet."

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah."

* * *

_Thanks so much to **Bled Dry**, **InuGurl107**, **Hachibo**, and my faithful reviewer, **TaioraWarrior**. I really appreciate your taking a minute to let me know what you think of the story!_


	14. So Tired

**So Tired**

Jim awoke with a start. His neck was stiff, his legs were numb, his feet and his nose were cold. An insistent, shrill beeping emanated from the corner of the room. It was pretty damn irritating. Jim blinked as he surveyed the equipment surrounding his father's bed, trying to figure out what the beeping signified. He was sure it couldn't be good.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear ya." Nelani bustled into the room and headed directly toward one of the IV poles. She pressed the front panel of one of the boxes mounted to the pole and headed out of the room as abruptly as she'd entered.

A few minutes later, the beeping resumed. Nelani returned with a bag of a milky fluid.

"Good morning, Ted." she said quietly. "This morning for your dining pleasure we're pleased to offer eggs benedict or French toast. Which would you prefer? The eggs benedict? A very good choice!"

As she spoke, Nelani deftly disconnected the bag from the box that had been beeping. She carefully withdrew a long, very thin tube that extended from the bag and wound through wheels on the front of the box. While Nelani discarded the empty bag and attached a new one, Jim's eyes followed the remainder of the tube's path. Holy God! It was connected to another tube that protruded from his father's nostril. Jesus. That had to be a feeding tube. How could they get a tube to go _up_ his dad's nose and then make a U-turn to go _down_ into his stomach? Jim really didn't want to think about that.

By the time Jim snapped himself out of his reverie, Nelani had finished and the machine was whirring away. Jim watched with rapt attention as little bubbles inched their way along the tube, propelled forward at each whir and click.

He knew his dad had to be in really terrible condition. Virtually every reassuring detail Pam had pointed out in his mother's room was lacking here. In fact, every one of those reassuring details had its counterpoint in this room. One IV pole was good? His dad had three. Eating gross hospital food was good? His dad was being pumped with some kind of chalky looking formula. Breathing on your own is always good, right? Jim could see that the small machine on the far side of his father's bed was doing all the work of forcing oxygen into his lungs. Its tube was anchored into his father's mouth – and, he was sure, straight down into his lungs. Jim watched his father's chest with a morbid fascination. It rose and fell in a choppy, robotic cadence. Utterly unnatural. His dad looked nothing like a normal sleeping person.

The tubes coming out of his father's nose and mouth forced his face into a permanent grimace. His face and hands were an ashen, pasty color. It was inconceivable that this broken man was his father. And unimaginable that a body could recover from this. Jim felt a tear slip down his right cheek. God, he hoped his father would come back from this. He had to apologize, admit he'd been wrong, vow to never let him down that way again, promise to be a better man.

Jim bit his lip and looked away. As Nelani passed out of the room, she set a box of tissues on the tray table beside him. She wordlessly gave his shoulder a light squeeze and she was gone.

Jim wrapped his arms tighter around Pam. Seriously, he didn't know how he could handle all this if she wasn't with him. He thought back over the night, trying to remember all the ways she tried to help him to prepare for this. What had she written?

_When you first see your parents, you'll be stunned. I can't prepare you for this, Jim. They'll have more wires and tubes coming out of them than seems possible. They'll probably each have 2 – 3 IV poles. Monitors will be blinking and beeping. They'll look terrible. You may not even recognize them._

He couldn't remember the rest. He couldn't remember most of the list, truthfully. He'd have to pull it out and review it tomorrow. Today. Later today. How did yesterday get to be today already? He was so tired. So tired. The doctors would be here in an hour or so and he was so tired. How would he absorb what they were going to tell him? He just needed a little more sleep before they arrived.

Jim lay his cheek against the top of Pam's head and drifted off to sleep again. So tired.

* * *

_Thanks to my new reviewers ... **showmebeau** and **HonoraryDAMember**! Reviews are what keep me going! And thanks to those folks who've added Cardiac Care to their Favorites and Alerts lists. Say HI, why doncha? ;-)_


	15. Friday Morning

**Friday Morning**

"Jim! Pam! Wake up!" Nelani gently nudged the pair's shoulders as she whispered loudly. "Jim! Pam! Dr. Lando is on the unit. Wake up!"

Pam awoke with a start. Nelani repeated, "Dr. Lando is on the unit. You guys need to wake up to talk with him."

Pam felt her eyes drifting shut and popped them wide open, willing herself into consciousness. "Which doctor is he?"

"Pulmonologist. He has three patients to see. One more patient and he'll be here. I asked him to save your father-in-law for last to give you time to wake up."

Pam rubbed her eyes. "OK. Thanks, Nelani. I'll wake Jim up."

Nelani nodded and bustled out of the room. Pam began to stroke Jim's upper arm. "Hey," she whispered. "Time to wake up." Jim didn't flinch, not even a twitch. She couldn't bear to raise her voice, so she began to rub a bit harder but still spoke softly. She wanted to ease him into wakefulness. If she was going to be honest, she wanted to softly kiss him awake. But that wasn't going to happen. Frankly, her inability to rein in these inappropriate thoughts was becoming a bit annoying. He had a serious girlfriend and no amount of wishful thinking or sentimental messages hidden inside jewelry was going to change that. Maybe someday she could have another chance if she could screw up her courage and be as honest as he had been at Michael's casino night. But today was definitely not the time for that.

Pam tossed the white cotton blanket off to the side. She started to push off Jim's lap but he tightened his grasp on her. Pam smiled sadly down at the long fingers curled possessively around her hip. Possessively. Yeah. She used to kind of dream about that. In her fantasies, Jim would reach out to her even in his sleep. He'd hold her tight against his chest, even in his dreams, and it would require real effort to free herself from his embrace. Her dreams felt a lot like this. Too bad it didn't mean anything. He was probably dreaming about Karen.

Pam managed to disentangle herself from Jim's arms, knelt before him and took his right hand between her own. She began to rub his hand with an increasing pressure as she whispered to him with more and more urgency. Eventually his eyes fluttered open. He blinked at her in confusion as his mind struggled to discern why he was sleeping sitting up. And why Pam was kneeling before him with eyes full of concern. After a moment, the whirs and clicks in the room began to register on him and his expression transformed from befuddlement to anguish. His parents were dying, his brother was missing and Pam was repaying him out of gratitude for all the things he did for her out of love. Yeah. That about summed things up.

Pam slipped her right hand over to grasp Jim's left. She stroked the backs of his hands as they lay motionless in Jim's lap. "The pulmonologist is coming in a minute. You gotta get up."

"The what?"

"Pulmonologist. The lung doctor."

"Lungs."

"Yeah. Fluid was backing up in your dad's lungs. Pulmonary edema, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

Nelani entered the room with a tall brown haired man in a white lab coat. Above his pocket was embroidered

Dr. Yaroslov Lando  
Pulmonology Associates

The doctor and nurse were already mid-conversation. " – came in yesterday after an accident on the beltway. Myocardial infarction, pulmonary edema caused by CHF, minor cerebral contusion, other internal injuries."

"How did he do overnight?"

"He did well overnight. Not too unstable. Pupils have been good. B/P ran a little low – I had to up his Levophed this morning."

"Meds?"

Nelani stepped out of the room briefly and rolled in the laptop. Clicked the mouse a few times and began to read. "He's on 10 micrograms of nitro, 15 micrograms of dopamine, Lasix is at 20 milligrams, D5 half normal saline at 200, and we're bolusing for CVP's less than 8. Fentanyl at 50 micrograms, Ativan's at 2 milligrams, Versed at 5. 0.5 of Amiodarone, 5 micrograms of Dobutamine, 10 of Levophed, and 2 milligrams of Lidocaine. He's got his insulin drip at 5 units, and urine output is holding about 60-75 cc per hour. Wedge pressure was 12. His last cardiac output was 4.6. The chest tubes are draining approximately 20 cc an hour. His K was 3.1 this morning."

As Nelani listed drug after drug, Jim's eyes widened and filled with tears. He blinked his eyes and averted his gaze out of the room. Anything to avoid breaking down in front of this doctor. He briefly glanced at Pam and took a deep, choppy breath as a tear escaped down his cheek. Without taking her eyes away from Dr. Lando, Pam stood beside Jim and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was familiar with some of these drugs but not all and she carefully watched the doctor's reaction to the list. The doctor and nurse conversed briefly. Dr. Lando nodded his affirmation at Nelani's description of Ted Halpert's status and treatment.

"Has x-ray been taken this morning?"

"Not yet. The last one was done at about ten o'clock last night. The edema was still present and the ETT was positioned correctly."

The doctor and nurse stepped out of the room. "OK. X-rays every six hours for next two days. If edema not reduced in 12 hours, increase Lasix to 30 milligrams." They continued to speak for a few moments, Nelani nodding and Dr. Lando writing notes as they spoke. The doctor strode back into the room and addressed Jim and Pam.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Lando with Pulmonology Associates." He spoke with a soft Eastern European accent. "We're treating your father's pulmonary edema. We'll be managing ventilator and his breathing complications. He was in pretty bad shape yesterday but Dr. Corso, is outstanding cardiac surgeon. His notes indicate surgery went very well. Heart is still weak and not pumping well, so we're draining fluid from left lung. We will take x-ray every six hours to monitor edema and adjust medications as needed. Do you have any questions?"

Jim looked toward Pam and silently implored her to ask a question. "The right lung is clear?"

"No. Not entirely clear. But accumulation of fluid is less than in left lung. Diuresis should clear right lung."

"Is Lasix the only diuretic he's on now?"

"Yes. We will use other drugs if Lasix does not work."

"What do you think is his prognosis?"

"Is too early to tell. We will monitor his progress closely for next 72 hours. I would say we are cautiously optimistic. Dr. Corso can give better information because so much depends on recovery of heart."

Pam had a million questions about the lengthy list of drugs that Mr. Halpert was on, but she'd ask Nelani about them. "Do you have a business card, Dr. Lando?"

"Yes, certainly. You can call our group at any time if you have questions about your father's condition." As he handed Pam a business card, the doctor's pager began to beep. The doctor looked at the message on the display as he headed out the door. "I must go now. We will come at least twice a day to check on Mr. Halpert's condition."

After the doctor left them, Pam turned to Jim. "Hey. Are you OK?"

"Holy shit, Pam. That list of medicines my dad's on is endless. What the hell is all that stuff? And why's he on insulin? He's not a diabetic! And what's with that doctor? He doesn't even speak good English!"

"I don't know all the meds but I know some of them. I wouldn't worry too much about the insulin. A lot of times people end up on insulin while they're in the hospital. Some of the other meds they're on can elevate sugar levels – and sometimes it's just the stress that their body's under that raises the blood sugar. It happened to my dad a few times and he never had to keep taking insulin after he left the hospital."

Jim closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips as he nodded. "OK. But what about the 85 other things he's on? And what about the doctor?"

"I know the Lasix is to get rid of the fluid on his lungs but let's see if Nelani's got a few minutes to explain about the other ones. And just because he's foreign, doesn't mean he's not a good doctor, Jim. We'll ask Nelani about him, too. OK?"

Jim nodded his head slowly. "OK. We'll talk to Nelani." Pam followed him out of the room and saw Nelani and another nurse standing by the laptop cart in deep conversation. Jim strode up to the pair. "Excuse me, I'd like to talk with you about –"

"No!"

Jim shot a startled look at Pam.

"Nelani, could you just stop by for a minute before you leave? We have a few questions if you could spare a minute then."

"Sure, Pam." As soon as Nelani turned her attention back to the other woman, Pam took Jim by the hand and pulled him back into his father's room.

"Why'd you do that? I wanted to ask her about those meds!"

"It's change of shift now, Jim. Those nurses have to come as close as possible to doing a Vulcan mind meld. _Never_ interrupt nurses at shift change unless someone's on fire! Nelani has to explain everything that's going on with your dad _and_ her other patient to the next nurse. You don't want important information to be forgotten because you interrupted them. _Always_ wait till after shift change. And, if you ever call the nurses' station on the phone, that should be the first question you ask – _Is this a good time to talk? It is shift change?_ – Hardly any question is so important that it can't wait 15 minutes."

Jim looked less than convinced. This was becoming irritating. No way she was letting her "husband" develop a reputation of being a pain in the ass. That kind of bad rap spread from one nurse to another and took way too much effort to repair.

"I'm serious, Jim. Never interrupt shift change." She didn't even try to disguise the frustration in her voice.

"Fine." Jim's voice was curt and he fixedly looked away from Pam. The two sat in stony silence as they awaited Nelani's appearance. Pam watched the second hand on the wall clock tick the seconds by. Jim listened to the clicks on the pump for the feeding machine. It was a ridiculous impasse but neither was willing to be the first to speak.

Eventually Nelani popped her head in the room. "Thanks _so_ much for waiting guys. I really appreciate it. I'll be right in."

Pam gave Jim a smug look to which he just shrugged. After a few more minutes, Nelani returned. "OK, what can I do for you?"

Pam spoke up. "We were wondering if you could tell us what the specific drugs are for."

"Oh, sure." Nelani stepped out of the room. "You mind?" she asked the other nurse, motioning toward the laptop station.

"No, no problem."

Nelani rolled the laptop into the room and pulled up the list of meds.

"OK. Let's see. The Nitro is a vasodilator. Vasodilators are often used for heart failure. They dilate the arteries and reduce the load on the failing ventricle. They increase stroke volume and ejection fraction – that's how much blood the heart pumps out. Improving the ejection fraction also helps to reduce edema, which is the collection of fluids in the body."

Nelani drew the sheet back from Ted Halpert's feet. "You'll notice your dad looks kinda bloated. The fluid has been accumulating throughout his body, not just in his lungs. Another drug we're using to reduce the edema is a diuretic called Lasix. It's a complicated equation, because Lasix, like several other meds your dad is on, also has a side effect of lowering blood pressure. We can't let his blood pressure drop too much, so we're giving him Levophed to raise the blood pressure."

She looked back at the computer screen. "Dopamine also helps the heart to pump more effectively. It's used for patients who are in shock from a heart attack or heart failure. Fentanyl provides continuous pain relief. The Ativan and Versed are used for sedating intubated patients. When we extubate your dad, we'll take him off those two."

Nelani looked up at Jim and Pam. "This all making sense? Yeah? Good. Continuing on, then. Amiodarone treats tachycardia – an excessively fast heart rate. Your dad's heart wasn't pumping very efficiently, so it tried to pump faster and faster to move the blood. Dobutamine improves the heart muscle's contractions. It's used only for a day or so. Your dad will receive only one or two more doses. So those two drugs together will help to improve the efficiency of his heart and reduce his heart rate."

"The Lidocaine was used on the endotracheal tube when your dad was intubated to prevent coughing and reduces the soreness he'll feel when the ETT is removed."

"And last, he's on insulin because the Levophed can raise blood sugar. A lot of times hospitalized patients just develop high blood sugar anyway. Kinda like hospital diabetics, I guess. Anyway, if they weren't diabetic before they came in, most patients are off the insulin before they leave the hospital."

Jim breathed out a soft "Wow."

"Yeah, it's quite a chemical cocktail your dad's on right now. But over the course of the next several days, we'll wean him off a lot of these drugs. As the heart recovers from the insult of the surgery, it'll get stronger and he won't need so much support. So, before I go, do you have any other questions?"

Jim looked rather abashed for a moment. Then his jaw flexed and his face was set with resolve. "I don't know how to ask this so it sounds PC but – that Dr. Lando – is he any good? I mean – he can't even speak good English. Where'd _he_ go to med school?"

For the first time a look that could be described as less than friendly crossed Nelani's face. "Yeah. I hear that kind of comment often. A lot of foreign born doctors practice here at Washington Medical Center. Dr. Lando is from Georgia." In answer to Jim's quizzical expression she added, "The country, not the state. He grew up speaking Russian and they don't use articles like _the_ and _a_. I think you'll find his English is actually very _good_ other than that."

"Look, I like you guys. Can I speak freely? Good. You know, Jim, someone's accent has nothing to do with the quality of the medical care that they provide. I am not exaggerating when I say your parents have some of the best doctors in this hospital attending them. There isn't one I would change."

Jim looked down in embarrassment. "Sorry. I just –"

"No. You don't need to apologize, Jim. I can tell you guys love your parents a great deal and you want the very best care for them. Your concern is totally understandable. I just don't want you to misunderstand and think your parents are getting anything but the best treatment because you hear some accents in the next few days."

Jim nodded. "OK. I'll remember that. Thanks."

"I'll be back on shift at 7 tonight. So I'll see you then. Oh! Before I forget – I called over to the Physicians Office Building and they have one room. I had them hold it for you. You can't keep sleeping upright in these plastic chairs."

Pam asked, "The Physicians _Office_ Building?"

"Oh. Yeah. In addition to doctors' offices, they have _Guest Accommodations _– 30 hotel rooms for out of town families and patients who have to arrive the night before their procedures. The hospital has over 900 beds, so it's pretty common for Guest Accommodations to have no vacancies. You have to either check in or call with a credit card number by three p.m. There aren't _any_ hotels close to the hospital, so make sure you get over there before three. Believe me, you want this room. All right. I need to shove off now. I'll see you tonight."

Pam stood quickly and took Nelani's hand into her own. "Thanks, Nelani. _So much."_ Her voice quivered slightly and her eyes glistened. "Thanks for _everything_ you've done for us tonight."

"You've very welcome!" Nelani smiled warmly. "I was just doing my job!" Nelani looked intently into Pam's eyes as she squeezed her hand. Resting her other hand on Jim's shoulder, the nurse added in a firm voice, "They're both in very good hands. We'll take care of them. You two take care of each other."


	16. PDA at Lunch!

**PDA at Lunch!**

Pam and Jim spent the remainder of Friday morning shuttling back and forth between Ted and Larissa Halpert's rooms, meeting with various doctors. Pam had jogged back to the car to move it out of the Emergency Room parking and had returned with all the purchases she'd made the evening before.

Between visits, Jim set up a CD boom box in each room and both were quietly playing the music that his parents loved. Pam and Jim started to file the doctors' cards into the business cards folders. There were so many doctors by mid-morning that they pulled out all the cards and decided to group them by specialty rather than alphabetically. Cardiology, endocrinology, pulmonology, neurology, the list went on and on. After each conversation ended, Pam pulled out the notebooks and wrote detailed notes. Later in the morning, as they looked over the notes, they noticed that nearly every doctor had said the phrases _cautiously optimistic_ and _monitor closely for the next 72 hours._

By about 11 a.m. Pam was feeling famished. She turned to Jim and asked, "Are you hungry? I could eat road kill right now."

"Yeah. I'm starved, too. Should one of us go down and bring back some food?"

"I think we've seen all the doctors who are gonna make rounds for this morning. Both your parents are still sedated. I don't think we'd miss anything if we took a little break and went down to eat together."

Jim smiled wearily. "I really _could_ use a break."

"Good! Let's go."

As the pair headed out of the unit, Pam stopped at the nurses' station. "We're going down to the cafeteria. Would anyone like us to pick something up?"

Ted Halpert's nurse, Beth, looked up with a grateful smile. "Yes! Please!" They have the best coffee at the Jumpin Java stand. If they have chocolate raspberry truffle, would you get me a large? And a container of skim milk, too, please. If they don't have chocolate raspberry truffle, I'll take chocolate macadamia nut. They always have that. Oh, and a big glass of ice. I like iced coffee. I never get to drink it hot, anyway." Beth pulled a five dollar bill from her wallet and handed it to Pam.

"Nothing to eat?"

"Nope. I brought my lunch but I need a serious caffeine fix."

Pam rapped the counter top. "Sure thing. One coffee coming back."

As Pam and Jim left the CCU, Jim headed left for the elevator. Pam turned toward the right and said, "You mind taking the stairs? We're going to be sitting for days. It'll feel good to stretch our legs when we go to eat."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "That's true. I _am_ feeling like my butt is taking on the shape of those hard plastic seats. Stairs it is."

Pam and Jim walked in companionable silence down the stairs. At every other landing, there was an exit door with a large yellow number painted on it. As they passed door number four, Pam suddenly pointed at the steps, "I don't know why every hospital has this sparkly cement in the stairwells. It's like a requirement or something. OK, _that_ was random. You know, Jim, the longer we're here, the less sense we're going to make!"

"Well, that's good to know Pam. I consider myself forewarned. I won't hold it against you when you start sounding like a nut."

"Oh, Jim, that's where you're gravely mistaken. I have _hospital experience_. You will start sounding nutty way before I do. I've built up some resistance to HID."

"HID?"

Pam tried to look very solemn. "Hospital Induced Delerium. It's a serious malady that affects the immediate family of hospitalized individuals."

Jim laughed as much at Pam's expression as at the silly disease. Made him think of spontaneous dental hydroplosion. "Well, then, you should be totally unaffected, Pam. They're my parents, not yours."

"Ah, but we are temporarily pretend married, remember? So they're my temporary pretend in-laws.

"Well then you should probably have a pretty light case of HID, if you develop one at all. You'll just have to be patient with me."

"Deal."

The pair lapsed into silence again as they passed door number two. Jim ran his fingers through his hair. Meant he was thinking about something serious, Pam knew. "What?"

"What what?"

"What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that. Spill it, Halpert."

"How do you know I'm thinking anything important? I could just be listing more pretend diseases in my head."

"Jim, I know you. C'mon. What's up?"

Jim stopped dead. _I know you._ So she did. He _was_ worrying. "It's just – all the doctors keep saying they're _cautiously optimistic_. Do you think they're just – I don't know – trying to make us feel better?"

Pam's response was immediate. "Absolutely _not_. That would do the doctors absolutely _no_ good. Jim, think about this. _The doctor said Grandma was doing great and then she died two days later. _They don't want that. If the doctors say they're cautiously optimistic, then they are. None of them have said your parents are out of the woods. They just said they seem to be on a track to recovery. And they're reserving judgment for a few days."

"You really think so?"

"I _know_ so."

Jim nodded and they descended the rest of the stairs in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts. They arrived at the cafeteria called, _The Center Café_, and stopped in their tracks. "Holy shit, Pam, this place is HUGE."

"You're not kidding. I've been in a lot of hospitals and I've never seen anything like this." The cafeteria had stations for Chinese food, pizza, diner fare like meatloaf and pot pies, burgers and other hot sandwiches, a salad bar, refrigerator cases, the Jumpin Java coffee stand that Elizabeth had mentioned, an ice cream stand … and some other stations that they couldn't see from the entrance.

"Tell you what. We'll split up and get whatever we want and then find a table in that section over there." Pam pointed in the direction of a section of the cafeteria that had more open tables. "I'll get the stuff for Beth."

"OK. See you over there."

A while later the pair had purchased their food, found each other and settled on a table for two. As Pam stirred her yogurt and Jim tucked into a slice of pizza, they suddenly heard excited, shrill voices.

"OhmyGodit'sPamandJim!"

"NoWAY! OhmyGOD! He'smoregorgeousinpersonthanontv!"

"Yesitis! It'sreallyPamandJim!"

From across the cafeteria, Pam and Jim spied a couple of teenagers staring directly at them. Anyone listening to them would think they'd spied some real celebrities, not a couple of office workers from a PBS documentary series.

"Holy shit. You were right. We're gonna be busted. Man, they sound like Kelly on a rant about Paris Hilton or Brangelina. How can they talk that fast?" Jim shook his head with a tense and exhausted grimace. "Jesus, I really don't need this right now."

"I'mtellingyou – thatisanengagementring! Youcantellevenfromoverhere! IgottatellBrigitteshe'llneverbelievethis! OohIcantakeapicture!"

Jim looked on in horror as one of the girls fished a cell phone out of her purse. "Fuck. This is not happening. Tell me this is not happening."

Pam tilted her head and smiled radiantly at Jim.

"Uh, Pam, are you OK?"

"Yes. Actually I am, Jim. Give me your hand." Pam continued to smile as she quickly rose to her feet. "Don't look surprised now."

"Wha-"

Jim's question was suddenly interrupted by a brisk, deliberate kiss. An I-kiss-you-all-the-time-but-I'm-leaving-for-a-few-minutes-so-I-want-to-give-you-a-quickie kind of kiss.

"I'll take care of this." Pam told him cheerily as she headed toward the now nearly breathless fangirls. Jim heard her gentle greeting, "Hey." and suddenly the girls' voices were miraculously lowered. Jim watched in rapt amazement as Pam worked the table. Pam looked very earnest as she talked to the two girls. They both nodded their heads enthusiastically. The three talked quietly for a while and suddenly all three looked over at Jim. Pam was – _blushing?_ One of the girls was talking again. Pam nodded and extended her left hand to the girls. Holy shit, they actually squealed and clapped

Now they were all looking at Jim again. Pam pulled up a chair to their table and sat down, leaning in for what looked like a heart-to-heart discussion. The girls took turns stealing sympathetic glances toward Jim. Pam must've told them about his parents. Her demeanor became more urgent and the girls nodded continuously as she talked. Whatever the hell she was feeding them, they were eating it up. Pam smiled and squeezed each girl's hand as she thanked them. She leaned back in her chair and motioned to the two of them. One girl motioned toward the other and pointed up at the ceiling. Then had an aha! moment and pointed at Pam. Pam blushed again and it looked like she said, "Maybe." She gave each girl a quick hug and walked swiftly back to Jim. Without sitting down, Pam picked up their tray and whispered, "Get up NOW. Before they decide to follow us!"

Pam swiftly sorted the trash and utensils and set the tray on the conveyer belt to the kitchen. Then she turned and headed out of the cafeteria, with Jim trotting behind her.

"Well?" asked Jim.

Pam silently shook her head and kept walking. As soon as they entered the stairwell and closed the door behind them, she started to talk quietly.

"Well, obviously, they recognized us. I told them the elopement story and they bought it wholesale. I really laid it on thick about how we don't need to have any attention here 'cause you're under so much stress. They both have HUGE crushes on you and promised to protect your privacy. I think they really meant it. We're probably going to run into them again. Tori's older brother is having surgery tomorrow to repair a hole in his heart – some kind of congenital defect. They tried to get me to promise to visit him because _he_ apparently has a crush on _me_."

"Shit."

"Pretty much."

They walked to the next landing in silence. Jim turned to Pam and asked, "They watch the show and they really believed you?"

"Oh, totally. They're deliriously happy that we finally stopped being so obtuse." Pam giggled at this comment.

"Obtuse? They actually said _obtuse?_"

"Yep. Those words exactly. 'Oh Pam! We're just deliriously happy that you guys stopped being so obtuse.' AND they just love the ring you got me! 'That ring is so much classier than that cheap thing Roy gave you.' is how they put it. Pam smiled wickedly at Jim as she wiggled her left hand at him.

"Well you know, Pam, I would only buy the very best cubic zirconia for the love of my life." Jim cocked his head a bit. "Hey, wait – I just realized I didn't even buy this for you. You must've shelled out a ton of money for all that stuff you brought down here. I didn't think of that last night. I'm sorry." He stopped and turned to face Pam head on. "How much do I owe you for all this?"

Pam maneuvered around Jim and continued up the steps.

"Nothing."

"Seriously, Pam."

"I am serious, Jim. I wanted to do this for you. Repay you for all the nice things you've done for me. Remember?"

Jim jogged up the steps to overtake her.

"Pam."

"No."

Jim placed his hand on Pam's arm to stop her. He was a step below her, and he could look her directly in the eye. "Pam. Really. You're taking _vacation days_ to be here with me. I don't want you to be spending your _money_, too."

Pam returned Jim's look. She shook her head as she smiled and started again up the steps. "Shut it, Halpert. I'm not taking your money. Can we talk about something else now?"

Jim huffed a frustrated sigh as he began to follow her. "OK. Then why were you blushing when you all looked at me?"

The color immediately rose again to Pam's cheeks. "They, um, they wanted to know if you're this beautiful when you wake up."

Jim snorted. "Beautiful?"

"Yes. Again, their exact words."

Jim laughed. "Well, what did you say to that?"

"Absolutely."

"Absolutely what?"

Pam smiled sweetly and laughed. "I'm a newlywed, you dork! That _was_ my response. When they asked if you wake up beautiful, I said '_Absolutely!' _" Pam whirled about and, tossing a wink over her right shoulder, quickly jogged the last steps to the fifth floor and darted out the door.


	17. Interlude

**Interlude**

Pam and Jim spent the afternoon moving back and forth between his parents' rooms. Although both parents were sedated, it felt like they were slighting one parent if they spent too much time with the other. They took the chairs from both rooms so they could sit together; when they switched rooms, they dragged the chairs with them.

Pam encouraged Jim to hold his parents' hands and talk with them, even if it seemed they were unaware of his presence. "I'm telling you, Jim, I think they're more aware of your presence than you know. Keep talking to them. Keep them here."

Jim was getting used to deferring to Pam's judgment in all things hospital-related, but this was hard. It felt weird and awkward to pretend to converse with these totally non-responsive people – even if they _were_ his parents. Talking about mundane details of his day-to-day life seemed ridiculous. Reminiscing about his childhood felt almost macabre – too much like funeral home talk. He decided he'd start planning a Halpert family vacation. They hadn't had a family vacation since he'd graduated from college.

Vacation planning turned out to be a good conversation topic. It felt positive, didn't require too much thought, and didn't make Pam feel excluded. So, for the first few minutes in each room, Jim held his mother's or father's hand and discussed the pros and cons of various vacation destinations. The Virgin Islands would be nice because they all liked to snorkel. Vermont would be nice if they wanted a ski vacation. Or Colorado – he'd heard skiing was great out there. Maybe see Hawaii for the first time? He spoke softly and stroked his parents' hands while he dreamed aloud about what would be surely the most sentimental family vacation they would ever have. If they ever got to take this vacation, he knew he'd have a completely new appreciation for their time together as a family.

Even such a good topic for once-sided conversation only went so far, though. After a while he'd lose steam, couldn't keep talking to – well, to an unconscious _body_. He'd grow quiet and silently stoke his mom or dad's forearm, holding their hand, feeling himself being sucked into a void. In those moments, Pam would speak up in a smooth, easygoing voice – throwing him a verbal lifeline. _Have I told you about my art classes? Hey, I finally fully stocked my one kitchen. Did I mention that my watercolor class is having a little exhibit next week?_ It was kind of uncanny, actually. She never interjected when he was just mulling over what to say next. She only started a conversation when he was truly at a loss. It was like she was in his head. How did she know?

An instinctive, unspoken accord between them limited discussion to fluff – superficial small talk. There was already far too much turmoil in their day to even consider taking on a weighty subject. They passed the afternoon side by side, never looking directly at each other, carefully choosing topics that avoided potential references to Karen or Roy or Jim's move to Stamford … or anything else that might be in the least intense or disquieting.

But how many inconsequential, fluffy things could they talk about? This couldn't go on forever. Jim rubbed his neck as he glanced up at the clock. Two thirty. Damn, there was a lot of afternoon still looming ahead of them.

"Hey," Pam gave Jim's shoulder a nudge and she turned to pick up a bag that had been sitting by the wall. "I brought some Sudoku books. You wanna just –" She handed Jim a pencil and booklet with a shrug.

"Yeah, actually." Jim gave Pam a relieved smile. "That sounds really good."

"Same puzzle?" Pam gave Jim a challenging smile.

"But, of course!"

The two sat together, silently working on their puzzles. At one point Jim looked over at Pam and said, "This feels really weird. Almost wrong."

"What? Kind of relaxing while you mom's laying here sedated with tubes coming out all over the place?"

"Yeah! It just doesn't feel right."

"I know. It feels almost disrespectful or sacrilegious, doesn't it?"

"Yeah! That's it. I couldn't put my finger on it, but that's it."

"I remember it taking a long time to get over feeling that way." Pam turned to face Jim fully. "But you can't mope the _whole_ time you're here with them, Jim. You still have to feel alive sometimes, you know? And your parents wouldn't want you to be depressed the whole time you're with them, anyway. They'd never want that to be their effect on you."

"Yeah, you're right." Jim cocked his head to the side. "You realize you're getting to be kind of annoying, Pamela."

"Annoying? How am I annoying?"

Jim prodded her thigh lightly with his knee. "This always being right thing. Show off!"

Pam ducked her head shyly and blushed a warm pink. This girl was truly amazing. Why had he ever tried to completely blot her from his life? Even if friendship was all she had to give, he should take it and treasure it. He'd never find anyone else like her – he was sure of that.

The pair sat in a companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly Pam announced, "Good lord! Your mom is in a really uncomfortable looking position. Can you press the button to call the nurse?"

In a moment, Larissa's nurse appeared in the doorway. Pam looked up. "Hi, LaShawn. Jim's mom has slumped all the way down the bed and she looks really uncomfortable. Can you reposition her?"

"You're right. That does look really uncomfortable. Let me find someone to help me."

A few minutes later, LaShawn returned. "I can't find anyone right now. Everyone is busy with their own patients. I'll come back as soon as I can find someone."

Pam asked, "Can I help you? I've done this a lot. I know the whole counting spiel."

"Sure. That would be great." LaShawn walked over to the dispenser near the doorway and pressed it to release antiseptic foam into her hand. She rubbed it over her palms as she walked to the side of the bed opposite Pam.

Pam stood up. "Jim, would you mind moving your chair back away from the bed?"

Pam reached down and pressed the button to lower Larissa's head so that she lay flat on the mattress. LaShawn pulled the covers away from Larissa and for the first time Jim noticed a cotton pad, about a yard square, beneath his mother's back. The women reached down and firmly gripped the pad's edges. LaShawn counted, "One. Two. Three." On the count of three, both women pulled the pad into the air, lifting Larissa's torso, and shifted her body up toward the head of the bed. As Pam drew the covers back up to Larissa's chest, LaShawn rearranged Larissa's pillow and gently set her arms over her abdomen, on top of the sheet and cotton blanket.

Pam looked up at LaShawn as she pressed the button to raise Larissa's head again. "Tell me when to stop."

"That should be good. Don't want her so upright that she slides down the bed again too quickly. Thanks for your help, Pam."

"No problem. Thank _you_ for coming so quickly."

As Pam settled back into her chair, Jim teased, "Pretty impressive, Nurse Beesly. You have a lot of practice at that?"

"Let's just say I've done it more than a few times."

"Yeah, I could tell you knew what you were doing," Jim said, his voice full of admiration.

"Well, toward the end, my dad had to sleep sitting up and he was always sliding down into a heap. It was so hard for him to find a comfortable position."

Jim glanced at his watch. "Oh, shit! Speaking of sleeping sitting up – it's two forty-five! We've got to check in at that Guest Accommodations." Jim looked directly into Pam's eyes. "And I'm putting this on _my_ credit card."

Pam opened her mouth to protest. "No, Pam. You've spent enough. Not negotiable."

"OK, OK. You win. You can pay for the room."

"Good. You stay here and I'll run over to check in. I don't know where you moved the car, so we can grab our bags later."

"Sounds good. We've been with your mom for a while now. I think I'll go sit with your dad while I wait for you to come back, OK?"

"Yep. I'll find you there."

"And Jim?" Pam bit her lip as her gaze drifted over Jim's shoulder. "Maybe you'd better call Karen while you're out there. She'd want to know what's going on with you and your family."

Jim sighed. "Yeah. You're right again, Beesly. I'll give her a call."

Jim stopped in the doorway on his way out. Glanced back at Pam and rapped twice on the door jamb. "Be right back." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

_ I want to thank alla y'all who are taking time to leave reviews! I really, really appreciate them!_

_I've got a question for you ... not too many people are reading this story. (Seems like about 30 - 35.) I asked **TaioraWarrior** if The Office thread over here has much traffic and s/he said it does. I think the problem might be partly my "hook" ... the little blurb that appears in the list of recent updates. Anybody have an idea of how I could change that thing up, stay true to the story, and maybe gin up a little interest from people who haven't tried the story yet? ... Thanks in advance for any ideas you might have!_


	18. Guest Accommodations

**Guest Accommodations**

Jim hustled out of the CCU down to the information desk on the first floor. A kindly older woman – how _was_ it that every hospital volunteer seemed to be a female over the age of 62? – directed him to make a right out of the main entrance and go half a block. As soon as he exited the building, Jim saw the Physicians Office Building. You could hardly call the distance half a block – it was more like 150 feet. This would be excellent! They'd actually be able to get some quality sleep and, if anything happened, they could be back with his parents in less than 10 minutes.

Quality sleep was sounding really appealing, he had to admit. The day had been totally exhausting. First the lack of sleep and then all the detailed medical information that was thrown at them over the course of the morning. And running into those fan girls definitely added more stress than they needed. He was _so_ looking forward to the feel of some nice soft sheets against his – oh, FUCK. How could he have been so _fucking stupid_?

Jim approached the rumpled young man at the reception desk with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Hi, um –" He peeked at the name tag pinned about the guy's shirt pocket. "– Nick. I'm Jim Halpert. Nelani Go called over this morning and had you hold a room for me?"

Nick gave Jim the merest of glances and turned toward the monitor. "How do you spell that?"

"H-A-L-P-E-R-T."

"Jim and Pam Halpert?"

"Yep."

"OK. I have your reservation. Will you be paying with a credit card?"

"Well, um, actually. Did any more rooms open up today? My brother will need a room, too."

The clerk gave the mouse a few dilatory clicks as he scanned the screen. "Sorry," he spoke in an indifferent monotone, "No rooms open up for at least four days."

Jim bit his lower lip. "Oooh-kaay. Does this room have two _beds_?"

The clerk shook his head in a half-hearted apology. "One queen size bed. You could call the Marriott Courtyard. They're the closest hotel to the hospital. Under a two mile drive – he definitely wouldn't want to walk the neighborhood at night."

Great. One fucking bed and a bad fucking neighborhood to the closest hotel. "Well, can you keep us in mind if another room opens up?"

"Yeah, sure. The room is $113.36 a night. With taxes, it's $132.98. Will you be paying with a credit card?"

Jim sighed as he extracted his wallet from his pants pocket. "Yes. MasterCard."

"Two keys?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

The young man handed Jim two card keys. "The Guest Accommodations are on the fifth floor. Your room is 518. There's a fitness room and a laundry if you need them."

As Jim pocketed the card keys, he tried to swallow the panic that was rising in his chest. His mouth began to tingle, his gut churned and he could feel himself losing his balance. This was not good. _So_ – not good.

Jim headed slowly toward the elevator. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Here was the one situation he'd dreamed about for years. Him. Pam. One bed. No pajamas. Well, at least _he_ didn't have any pajamas. He was sure she did. She'd probably told him in those lists to grab some pajamas. As he stepped onto the elevator, he pulled Pam's shopping lists out of his wallet.

**YOUR PLACE:**

1. Clothes for at least 6 days. Sweaters/shirts/short sleeve shirts. I kid you not. Prepare for winter and summer because some rooms will feel like each.  
2. Underwear/socks for at least 10 days.  
3. Some books/magazines that you like to read.  
4. iPod.  
5. Cell phone charger.  
6. Cash/credit card/ATM card.  
7. Toiletry kit with toothbrush/deodorant etc.

No. No mention of pajamas at all. Maybe she didn't have any either? This was great, just fucking great. There was no way he could sleep undressed in the same room as Pam Beesly, much less the same bed, without getting a hard-on the size of the state of Florida. She'd be sure to notice – how could she not? – and it would freak her out and make everything all weird between them.

How ludicrous – he'd asked her to "be his wife for a few days" but hadn't thought about the fact that husbands and wives _sleep __together_. How the hell had he missed that? He opened the door to the room and flipped on the light, hoping to see a room large enough to accommodate a cot as well as the queen size bed. Oh, hell! Of course not. He was going to have to think of some way to stay limp tonight. Maybe he could think about Andy and Dwight all night. Yeah, that would be great. He'd be sure to wake up feeling well-rested after six or seven hours of trying to ignore Pam and think about Dwight.

Jim flipped off the light with an angry flick of his wrist and headed out the door. Nothing else to see here. As he headed out the door, he remembered Pam's suggestion to call Karen. Yeah. No way he was calling her right now. He did _not_ have the kind of energy he'd need for _that_ conversation. He could just hear the questions. _Why didn't you call me earlier? Are you not committed to this relationship? Don't you want me to be there to support you? _

More importantly, there was no way Pam could stay if Karen came down. And, as fucked up as this sleeping arrangement was, he didn't want Pam to leave. And he sure as hell didn't want Karen around when his dad woke up. Not getting into _that_ whole dynamic again. No. He was _not_ calling Karen. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until Jon arrived – and even _that_ was iffy.

The elevator doors opened and an elderly man exited, pushing a walker before him. He tooted a bike horn as he greeted Jim with a cheery "Good afternoon!" Jim did a double take. The man's walker was decorated for Easter_. _It had painted bunnies near the handlebars and the whole front was trimmed from wheel to wheel with an Easter egg garland. One handle bar sported the bike horn, the other had a bicycle mirror on a flexible arm. Jim had never seen anything like it. He couldn't decide if it was sweet or ridiculous. He hoped Pam would run into the old man at some point. _She_ would think his crazy looking walker was sweet.

On the walk back to the CCU, Jim deliberated on what to tell Pam about the room. Should he offer to move them to that Marriott Courtyard so they could get a room with two beds? Or better yet, two rooms? But if they got two rooms, she'd never let him pay for hers. And there was no way he was adding several hundred dollars to the sum she'd already laid out. Maybe she'd think he was crazy to even bring it up. Maybe she was so totally unaffected by him that _she_ wouldn't have any trouble getting a good night's rest in the same bed with him.

Deep in thought as he entered the CCU, Jim headed to his father's room, where Pam said she would be. He stopped short in the doorway, startled by the scene before him.

Pam stood by his father's bed, softly singing along with Jimmy Buffet as she tenderly rubbed her hands up and down his father's right arm. She gently set his hand down on his abdomen. Picked up a small bottle of moisturizer that lay on the bed beside him and squeezed a mound onto her palm, rubbing her hands to warm it. Then she reached across him to pick up his left hand and rubbed the cream up and down his left arm. She set his left hand softly atop the right and repeated the process to sooth the dry skin on his father's brow and cheeks.

Jim stood in the doorway, transfixed. Pam had never even met his father and here she was – ministering to him as if he was her own father. Jim felt a powerful swelling in his chest, a surge of love and – inexplicably – pride. He wasn't sure what he had to be proud of but he was overwhelmed by it.

She was beautiful – so beautiful – standing there, caring for his father. She was all tenderness and compassion and love. And it felt like she was his. Like she was part of him and part of his family. _That_ was it – he felt proud that she was his. Even though he knew it wasn't true, he let the sensation wash over him and enjoyed pretending that it was so.

* * *

_Hey, **dragonqueen12**: I usually reply to reviews with personal messages, but you've disabled that function. You asked why I was looking for reviews here at FF, when this story has over 700 reviews at MTT. And you said you hoped to see some updates over at MTT since these are old chapters. _

_Couple of things ... I have hit writer's block a number of times on this story. And, when I try to start writing again, I review the old text to get "back in the groove" to pick up where I left off. Invariably, I'm irritated by some of the writing, especially in the first half of the story. I was rusty back when I started this story and I didn't know about beta readers. So I cringe when I reread some of the text that I posted. I decided that this time I would start revising the text instead of just rereading ... and that I'd post it over here and make the revisions over at MTT at about the same time. My goal is to get all the way up to what I've got posted at MTT and then write the few chapters that are left. Actually the LAST chapter is already written. I just have to get myself there._

_And why would I like to have readers/reviewers over here at FF, when there are so many at MTT? Well, any time a writer posts stories to a site like this, they're hoping for some kind of feedback/conversation with the readers. If I didn't care about feedback, I'd just write the story and let it sit on my hard drive. **Greys has become my life **left a comment that s/he'd prefer less medicalese, more JAM. That's something I was already working on in the revisions. Now I have an idea that at least one reader thinks I need to do more of that. I'm pretty attached to the medical aspects of this story, and I've gotten a lot of feedback from readers who also enjoyed it, so I may never trim back as much as **Greys** would prefer, but it's good to know. I'll pare back a bit **more** of those medical details to propel the story along. Being influenced by well thought out reviews makes you a better writer. That's why I'm asking for them!_

– MTT-VB


	19. The Beacon

**The Beacon**

After the frenzied departure preparations, the all-night drive, and the exhausting morning of meetings with specialists, the afternoon was shockingly lacking in activity. Jim felt disoriented – disengaged – to be sitting in his parents' rooms making small talk with Pam, watching nurses and technicians stream in and out, each with a very specific task to perform. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there, it was just unsettling to have nothing to do but sit and wait. He didn't know what they were waiting for –for his parents to wake up? Or for an emergency to occur? He had no idea what he should be doing. Or what he should be saying. He was just totally sapped.

He took a furtive peek at Pam. If you'd asked him eighteen months ago, he'd have said they could never run out of things to talk about – but today it seemed to happen. After a while, it took too much energy to think of another topic of idle chatter. He thought Pam felt it too. Her eyes betrayed a heightening unease each time she cast about for another suitably light subject of conversation. Eventually, she confessed, "Jim, I'm kind of talked out. Can we just be quiet for a while?" With a greater sense of relief than he cared to admit, Jim agreed.

Pam set about straightening their things in the tiny room, filing a few doctors' business cards, tossing cups in the trash. It wasn't until she'd gotten the room back in good order that Jim realized how uneasy he'd felt surrounded by the low level chaos. He was so grateful to have Pam with him. She was like a beacon, guiding him through the confusion and turmoil of the past 23 hours. Could that be right? It wasn't even a day yet? This had definitely been the longest day of Jim Halpert's life. He truly could not envision how he would have coped if he had come to this hospital all alone.

He tried to imagine the young Pam Beesly who had gone through hell to attain this hard-won assurance. More than one person today had halted their conversation to turn to Pam and ask, "Are you a medical professional?" And she'd respond with a self-deprecating comment about spending too much time watching ER. But Jim could tell they knew better. It wasn't just that Pam could follow the jargon. It was her calm in the face of uncertainty. It was the effortless way she choreographed her actions with theirs. She knew when her help or input or questions would be welcomed … and when it was time to step back. She acted like an assistant – not a spectator. He could tell she was modeling the proper decorum for him, so that he'd know how to take on this role when she left. She'd started his training before they even left Scranton. Where were those lists again?

Jim rifled through the supplies they'd brought from Scranton until he found the manila envelope marked _**Things Jim needs to learn about hospitals**_. He extracted several sheets written in Pam's neat hand. He took them one by one to read them slowly now that he'd experienced his first day of critical care.

* * *

**NURSES**

1. As a patient advocate, the floor nurse is your most important ally. She (usually, but sometimes he) will explain things in _English_ instead of medicalese. She is around the patient the most. She often knows more than the intern who bosses her around.

2. The nurse is _**not**_ a waitress. Don't treat her like one. Learn where the ice machine is. Get it yourself.

3. The floor is often understaffed and nurses hardly have a chance to go to the bathroom, much less take a break to grab something to eat or drink. If you're going to the cafeteria, make a point of asking if anyone would like you to pick something up.

4. Be friendly, learn every nurse's name. No, not every nurse – I mean every nurse who's assigned to one of your parents. When you arrive, introduce yourself to the nurse if she's in the room. Tell her your name, ask hers. Remember it.

5. Turn on the Halpert charm. Smile that smile that makes me melt. Nurses deal with a lot of really dreary, surly people every day. Be as positive as you can, given the circumstances. People can't help responding to that.

6. That said, DON'T FLIRT with the nurses! They're skeeved out by guys who flirt with the staff while their loved one is fighting for their life. (It does happen, really.) Besides, you're married, remember?

7. This all sounds like you're trying to suck up to the nurses? Yes! You are! Give 'em these bags of candy! Seriously, being present for your mom or dad, being kind & respectful to the nurses … it will all promote better care for your parents. It's just human nature to respond positively when you're treated well.

* * *

He thought about Pam's interactions with the nurses today. She always addressed them by name, warmly and respectfully. She'd offered assistance where she could, like when she helped LaShawn to reposition his mom. She brought coffee back to the unit for Beth. She never seemed to think about any of it. It just came naturally to her.

He looked back over number five. _Turn on the Halpert charm. Smile that smile that makes me melt._ Did she really mean that, or was it just a euphemism? He had a smile that made her melt? She sure as hell had a smile that made _him_ melt. Used to, anyway. He hadn't seen so much of it lately.

Number six was disconcertingly weird. Why'd she feel the need to tell him not to flirt with people who should be focused on trying to save his parents' lives? But he had to admit – it made him smile to read _Besides, you're married, remember?_

Jim folded the sheet, put it carefully back into the manila envelope and moved onto the next list.

* * *

**DOCTORS**

1. Cardiologists are pretty much heartless. Curious given their choice of specialty. They're also often pretty arrogant. (I guess it takes a supremely self-confident personality to cut open someone's chest and mess with their beating heart.) Don't expect empathy from a cardiologist; you'll just get information. Don't take it personally. Don't ask too many questions. Wait & ask the nurse.

2. Pulmonologists (lung doctors) are often very warm & fuzzy. They'll spend all the time you need to answer questions.

3. Endocrinologists (hormone stuff) & internists (not interns!) are somewhere on the scale between cardiologists and pulmonologists. (I don't know anything about neurologists.)

4. Your parents are critically ill and there are lots of different things wrong with them. There will seem to be a zillion doctors working on your parents. Every specialty will have a group – kind of a little company – like: The Heart Group, Pulmonology Associates etc. Different doctors from each group make rounds every day. You might see four different doctors from the same group in two days. That's why I got the business card folders. Ask every doctor for his/her card and put it in the right folder. You'll have a record of every doctor who's worked with either of your parents that way. You can put notes on the cards so you remember who's who.

5. The doctors don't really talk to each other. Your parent's "chart" will get to look like a phone book. All the doctors' & nurses' notes, test results and everything keep getting added to the chart. When the doctor makes rounds s/he'll read over the chart before walking into the patient's room. This is the extent of their background when they first see the patient. They don't mean to, but sometimes they miss important information.  
That's why it's so important for you to _**BE THERE**_ and talk to them. Take your own notes after you talk so you understand and remember what all of them say. (That's why I bought the notebooks & the Post It flags.) They're the experts but you _**love**_ your mom and dad. You have a much higher vested interest in a "positive outcome."

* * *

There certainly was an endless stream of doctors checking on his parents throughout the day. Especially in the early morning. The cardiology guys did seem to be the most aloof. And they were all part of different medical consortiums. Come to think of it – Jim pulled out the business card holder marked "Ted Halpert." Yep. Dr. Lando was part of _Pulmonology Associates_, one of the names she listed in number four. How'd she do that? Was it a common name, like having _Smith_ for a last name?

Today Pam had done all of the note taking. He'd have to take a look at the notebooks and make sure he could understand her comments. He put the **Doctors **note away and moved on to the next.

* * *

**GENERAL HOSPITAL STUFF**

1. When you first see your parents, you will be stunned. There's no way I can prepare you for this, Jim. They will have more wires and tubes coming out of them than seems humanly possible. They'll probably each have 2 – 3 IV poles, crammed with bags of drugs. Monitors will be blinking and beeping. They will look terrible. You may not even recognize them. All I can say is this should be the worst you'll see, God willing. As they get better, there will be fewer tubes & poles. Their wounds will heal and they'll look more like the parents you know and love.

2. They'll be moved around, if they're in the hospital long enough. They may end up on totally different ends of the hospital. You & Jon will probably have to tag team and alternate who you're with. Sometimes hospitals will close a ward for the weekend, depending on how much staff they have. Don't have a heart attack if you go to your parent's room and they're not there.

3. There are lots of other people you'll see on a regular basis: phlebotomists (the people who draw blood), nurses aides, the food delivery people, x-ray technicians. There will be lots of people going in & out of the room all the time. Be nice to them all. Every one of them will help you in some way.

4. You are going to wash your hands so many times they will feel like sandpaper – but raw. Use the Eucerin a lot.

* * *

She was sure not kidding about number one. His mom didn't look so terrible, but his dad? There were no words to convey how shocked he'd felt in the early hours of the morning when he first saw his father. He looked down at his hands. They _were_ starting to feel flaky and dry already. He hoped she'd be wrong about number two, but it didn't seem likely. So far she'd been right about everything else.

One more list to review.

* * *

**HOW YOU CAN HELP**

1. Be present.

2. Be attentive.

3. Be as positive as you can.

4. Learn the terminology. (Another use for those notebooks!) Doctors will treat you with more respect and give you more & better information when you really seem to "get it."

5. Get the hell out of the way when they need you to. If you feel like you're underfoot, you are. Staff will cut you a whole lot of slack about visiting outside of official visiting hours _**if**_ you are cooperative about things like that.

6. Read to your parents, talk to your parents. Play the CDs that you brought. I'm convinced that it helps to keep them connected and really can help them to recover.

7. Tape up those pictures. They'll help you and, once your parents wake up, they'll help them, too. And it helps to make them "real people" to all the staff who come into the room. You can talk about your parents as people instead as of patients.

8. Use that phone book to call some of your parents' friends. Let them know what's happened. I know you're not real religious but it will mean a lot to your parents to know that their friends are praying for them. And, I gotta tell you, I really do think it helps.

9._**Never**_ get into family arguments in the hospital. I've seen too many families fall into this horrible, dysfunctional dynamic. It's awful for them and everyone around them. I know you're mad as hell at Jon right now but you _**know**_ that he'd have never left if he'd any idea this would happen. You both love your parents and you love each other. You are on the same team, Jim. Remember that.

10. Take care of yourself to the extent that you can. Give yourself a few minutes now and then to rest your eyes. Call Mark or Karen or somebody who can get your mind out of the hospital for a moment. And remember – I'll do anything you need me to do. You'll be there for your parents and I'll be there for you.

* * *

Wow. Now this list had a lot of things he could do but hadn't yet. He definitely could see what Pam was talking about in number four. _Doctors will treat you with more respect and give you more & better information when you really seem to "get it."_ All day long, even though Jim was the son and Pam was the "daughter-in-law", every medical professional directed their comments to Pam instead of him. Frankly, it had started to bug him but it made sense now that he thought about it. They had a lot of patients and not much time; it made sense for them to quickly tell Pam and let _her_ take the time to explain it to him.

He hadn't done anything about the pictures or the books or contacting his parents' friends. He didn't think he was up to contacting the friends yet. Tonight before they left for dinner, he'd tape up some pictures. He had talked to his parents, though. She'd made sure of it. That was something. But those one-sided conversations became a real strain to continue; he could see where reading to them would be an easier way to let his parents hear his voice and feel his presence.

Number ten, though. Number ten left him for a loss. He didn't want to call Karen. At all. It was very clear to him now that she wasn't what he wanted and he'd never be able to give her what she wanted. He should never have used her as a human minesweeper – she didn't deserve that.

He didn't have the strength to deal with Karen now, didn't have the energy to act the role of the devoted boyfriend. If he talked to her, he was sure that all that would come to mind was _I want out. Please. Now._ And he didn't want to break up with her over the phone. She _definitely_ didn't deserve _that_; it would be even worse than what he did to Katy.

No. He didn't want his mind to go where that phone call would take him. He'd rather be in the hospital. With Pam. The woman who wrote _And remember – I'll do anything you need me to do. You'll be there for your parents and I'll be there for you. _When this mess was all over and his parents were back home, he planned to do his damnedest to rebuild that friendship. Maybe, if he was lucky, to something more.

There was _**no way**_ he would even suggest that kind of involvement with Pam until his relationship with Karen was over. He respected Pam Beesly far too much to ever ask her to play the role of the other woman. And he sure as hell didn't want to have any question in his mind that Pam got involved with him out of pity. Or because she felt pressured.

And that brought him back to his major concern for the night. How was he supposed to sleep in the same bed with Pam and not have a hard on all night long? Or worse – a wet dream? He couldn't think of anything that would be more mortifying than that. And no way to control it. And, unless he wore his _goddamn pants_ to bed, no way to hide the evidence. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. And the more he panicked.

* * *

_Hey, **dragonqueen12**. No worries about the review. I always respond to reviews. Can't respond to you via PM so replied at the end of the chapter. I saw other authors do it for all their reviews so thought was kind of common practice over here at ff. ... And, yeah, the writing bug comes and goes. I've worked on this story sporadically over the past three years and have written several others in between. A lot of people have requested that I finish it, so that's what I'm working on here. ;-)_


	20. Conversations w God,Parents&theWalkerMan

**Conversations with God, Parents and the Walker Man**

"I think I'm gonna go sit with your mother for a little while." Pam made the sudden announcement even as she swiftly gathered up her things. "Stop by and get me when you're ready to eat?" And that quickly she was out the door.

What the hell? Had he done something? He knew his mood had been turning sour but he hadn't _said_ anything. Why would she suddenly leave him here?

This was gonna be one long, uncomfortable night. He was already tense about the impending hard on. And now, all of a sudden, not only did Pam not want to talk with him, she couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him. Oh. But she was going to have to spend the whole night in the same bed with him. Outstanding. This wouldn't be too awkward. Not at all.

Jim glanced up and his father's form filled his view. Unbelievable. He was positively unbelievable. Here was his dad – hooked up to IVs with every drug known to man, on a ventilator, two tubes draining fluids from his body – and Jim's main concern was that his night with Pam was going to be awkward. What the hell kind of son was he? He should just be disowned or disinherited or something.

Jim buried his face in his hands. He wasn't really a praying kind of guy, but he felt like he should get on that. It wasn't as if he'd done anything all day that was helpful or constructive. He made a few feeble attempts to speak to God about getting an assist here. But it had been so long since he'd even thought about praying that it felt false. If there was a God, he could just hear him. "Sure, Halpert, only talk to me when you want something _huge_. It's been years, buddy. Why should I listen to you now?"

So, instead, Jim started to speak to his father in a soft and tremulous voice. "Hey, Dad? I, uh, I know you didn't exactly plan this. But you're – you're pretty much scaring the crap out of me. I know I'm twenty eight and all but I'm really not ready for the whole orphan thing. I'd really like you to, I don't know, wake up? I know I've been a shit lately but I love you, Dad. I do."

Jim's lips began to quiver and he found he was unable to utter another sound. His head bowed in shame and fear, tears slipped silently down his cheeks as he reached through the thick plastic bed rails to grasp his father's hand. Jim sat wordlessly with his father for over an hour, enveloped in a silent grief. His discomfort grew more pronounced the longer he sat on the uncushioned plastic chair, crouched low over the bed rail. His buttocks went numb, his legs cramped, and his lower back groaned with displeasure at the prolonged and unnatural posture. Eventually, the pain was impossible to ignore. Jim released his father's hand and stood over the bed. He whispered his apology, "I've got to get out of here for a few minutes, Dad. I'm gonna get Pam and have some dinner. Then I'll come back to see you and Mom again."

He crossed the CCU to find Pam talking quietly to his mother. He fought the urge to lurk in the doorway and eavesdrop on the one sided conversation. Man, would he like to know what Pam could have to say to his mother, this woman she'd never met, but he was pretty sure she'd bristle at the intrusion if she caught him. The evening was already bound to be strained; they didn't need any additional vexation. So, as soon as he reached the doorway, Jim cleared his throat. "Hey. You hungry?"

Pam looked up at him with a weak smile. "Yeah. Actually, I am. It's been a long time since that lunch we didn't get to finish." She reached down and lightly patted Larissa's arm. "We'll be back later, Mrs. Halpert. Gotta eat." She turned to gather her things and followed Jim out the door. As she passed the nurses' station, she dutifully asked if anyone wanted something from the cafeteria. Jim was relieved that no one had a request.

They exited the CCU and Jim headed in the direction of the stairs. Pam hesitated, then turned toward the elevator. "You mind if we ride? I'm kind of tired."

"No. Sure. Absolutely."

As they waited by the elevators, Pam slipped her right hand into Jim's and pressed her cheek to his left shoulder. For the first time that day, Jim sensed she was asking for his strength instead of offering her support to him. It immediately buoyed his spirits to be on this more familiar ground. Jim was far more comfortable in the role of caregiver than dependent.

His lips moved to her hair and he murmured "Hey" as he released her hand, opening up his arms to her. Pam smiled a tiny, grateful smile and wrapped her arms about Jim's waist, her hands clasped together and resting on his right hip. She nestled her face against his shoulder and inhaled a choppy breath as she struggled not to cry. It began to dawn on Jim that this trip was far more costly to Pam than the couple of hundred dollars she had spent at Wal-Mart.

An elevator dinged and its doors slid open to reveal the walker man. He tooted his horn as he shuffled to the side of the elevator. "Come on in! Plenty of room!" The old man smiled as if he was welcoming the couple onto his porch for an iced tea on a sunny summer's day. He tooted his horn again and winked flirtatiously at Pam. "Always happy to make room for young lovebirds such as yourselves!"

Pam tossed her head back and grinned widely up at Jim, their first moment of unalloyed merriment in the whole day. Without a thought, Jim grinned back down at Pam and planted a kiss on her forehead. He hoped they'd run into the walker man a lot.


	21. Friday Night

_I can see that a few people are reading this story outside the U.S. So, a little point of information for my non-American readers … In the U.S. Advanced Placement (AP) classes are college level classes that are offered in secondary school. At the end of the year, students can take an AP test, which is scored on a 1 – 5 scale. Universities will give college credit for these courses, depending on the score. (Some colleges require a 5, others will give credit for a 4.)_

_And what does this have to do with Pam and Jim, you wonder? Read on, my friends, read on …_

* * *

**Friday Night**

Pam and Jim exited the elevator with their arms around each other. The walker man gave them one last short toot and waved an adieu. As the door closed behind them Pam chuckled, "That man is the most adorable thing I've ever seen! Can I take him home with me?"

Jim stopped dead, staring at her, aghast. "The most adorable? I'm wounded, Pam. Wounded. Here we are, married – what? Less than two weeks? And I've already been displaced as Most Adorable Thing You've Ever Seen? By an octogenarian?"

Pam laughed happily as she swatted Jim in the chest.

Jim smiled down at her. "Seriously, though. I was hoping you'd run into that guy. I knew you'd love him."

"You saw him before?"

"Yeah. I think he's staying at the Guest Accommodations, too. I saw him over there when I checked in."

"Oh, yay!" To Jim's delight, Pam actually clapped her approval. Then, to his consternation, her face abruptly grew serious as she looked past him down the corridor. He turned his head to follow her gaze. What did she see down there?

"Hey. Do you mind if I stop at the chapel for a few minutes before we eat?"

Jim started to walk in the direction of the chapel. "No. That's a great idea. In fact, up in my dad's room –"

Pam put her hand on Jim's forearm to stop him. "I meant I'd like to spend a little time in there by myself. Is that ok?"

"Uh. Yeah. Sure."

"Maybe you should call Karen and Jon on the way down, too? Have you left any messages with Jon? He said he wasn't going to take his phone but maybe he did. And I'm sure Karen's been waiting for an update all afternoon."

Her requests left Jim momentarily speechless. "Yeah. Um. Sure. Whatever. Same section we were sitting in for lunch? Whoever gets there first just hangs until the other one shows up?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. We'll find each other near the table where we sat today."

Pam could see anxiety and confusion wash over Jim's face. She knew it bordered on cruelty to push him away again, that he was misinterpreting her need to be alone as a personal rejection – but her impulse to go alone to the chapel was overwhelming.

In the final months of his life, Joe Beesly had often asked Pam to wheel him to the chapel to pray. They were a subterfuge, though, the frequent trips to the chapel. Pam's father was never an overly religious man. He desired not so much to speak to his maker as to commune with his youngest child. Their time in the chapel was sacred. If someone else was in the pews praying, they simply sat together, hands clasped to one another. On the occasions when they were alone, they spoke quietly. Pam's father told her his dreams for her future. She gave voice to her fears about losing him and he promised that, if there was _any_ way to be there for her, he would find it. Even as his physical vigor was waning, her father shared with Pam the vast reserves of his inner strength.

The day had been a grueling one for Pam as she relived the experiences of the CCU. As the day had worn on, it was more and more difficult to stay in the room with Mr. Halpert. Eventually, when it became unbearable, she'd fled to Jim's mother's room. It wasn't enough, though. Pam's nerves were frayed. Spending the whole day in the CCU had stirred up far more fear and anguish than she'd anticipated. It was exhausting to protect Jim from those feelings all day and Pam desperately needed some time in the chapel to feel her father's presence again. To let him share his strength with her, so she could share it with Jim.

Jim fumed as he left Pam in the corridor. She always did have an uncanny ability to elevate his mood to giddy levels and then dash it to shit in the span of minutes. OK, she was having a rough time with this trip – he could appreciate that. But did she have to keep pushing him away? They only had each other here and she kept forcing them to be alone.

And really? Was it necessary to bring up Karen? _Again? _Jim was as resolved as he had been earlier in the day. No way he was calling Karen. He didn't care if that did make him a chickenshit. He only had so much energy to go around – and he definitely didn't have enough mental reserves for _that_ minefield of a conversation.

He probably should try Jon, though. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled to his brother's entry in the address book. "Hey, Jon. It's Jim. I, uh, I got a call yesterday." He paused. "You should probably sit down. I got a call yesterday from Washington Hospital Center. Dad had a heart attack on the DC Beltway yesterday and, uh, rolled their car. Mom and Dad are both in critical care now. I'm here with – never mind. Just call me if you get this message, OK? I, um, I love you, man. Bye."

Jim paced the lobby as he left the message for his brother. He clicked the phone shut and looked about. All around him, love seats and armchairs were arranged in small conversation groupings. He wandered over to a chair, sank into it and wearily slouched his lanky body so his head could rest on the chair back. He was so damn tired. His head was throbbing. And his eyes burned. Yet, as exhausted as he was, he didn't think he'd get any sleep tonight.

He looked about and noticed a sign for The Lobby Giftshop. Yes! Advil, Visine and some kind of sleeping pill, that's what he needed – and that Lobby Giftshop probably had all of them. Jim heaved himself out of the chair and dragged himself over to the shop. He wandered the shop, looking for the nonprescription medications. Then, on the far wall, he noticed – clothes! Corny T-shirts with sayings about recovering from heart attacks, having babies, getting tummy tucks. And – yes! Scrubs with the WHC emblem! A pair of those babies would make _perfect_ pajama pants! An enormous grin grew over Jim's face. God, this was pathetic. No one should be this excited to buy cheaply made drawstring cotton pants from China.

Ecstatic with his find, Jim took his selections to the cashier and happily paid an absurd amount of money for three tiny bottles and a chintzy patch of cotton. Then he left for the cafeteria. He didn't want to keep Pam waiting – she must be ravenous by now. Her lunch had consisted of about three spoonfuls of yogurt. He headed directly for the table where they'd sat for lunch, but Pam was nowhere in sight.

Jim pulled out a chair and sat down to await her arrival. He fidgeted in the seat, trying to divert his attention from his gnawing hunger, which was growing by the minute. Five minutes. Ten. He walked the perimeter of the restaurant to make sure Pam wasn't waiting somewhere else. Fifteen minutes. Twenty-five. They _did_ agree that the first one to arrive was to wait and they'd eat together, right? She had to know he was sitting down here, damn near starving and it was starting to piss him off. _He'd_ come directly down. Like _DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT $200_. Directly down, so he wouldn't keep her waiting.

This was ridiculous. He needed to get something in his system. Now.

Jim marched up to the pizza bar and looked for the biggest, greasiest slice he could find. Carnivore's Delight. Grabbed a root beer because, frankly, he didn't need any caffeine keeping him up tonight. He paid the cashier, still looking over his shoulder for Pam. Headed over to "their table" and flung the tray on the table with a dull thud. He sat down to take a bite and – just like lunch –

"OhmyGodthere'sJim! WherecouldPambe?"

Holy mother of God. How had it not occurred to them that this was also the fangirls' section?

"Calm down, Tori. Get a grip!"

Yeah, Tori, get a grip. No. Please no. Do NOT come over here. Shit.

"Hello, ladies."

The girl who was not Tori spoke first. "Hi, Jim. We won't bother you long. We were just wondering, um, well, how your parents are doing." She hesitated and added timidly. "We, um, we said some prayers at the chapel for them."

Great. So he couldn't manage a decent prayer for his parents but these girls – who'd never even met them – did. He really was a total shit.

Both girls suddenly reared back, eyes opened wide, and the girl who was not Tori exclaimed in an apologetic voice, "Oh! We're sorry. We'll just go –"

Shit. What kind of face had he just made?

"No. No, that's OK. I just dazed out there. Sorry. They're both still unconscious. But the doctors all say they're cautiously optimistic."

"Oh! That's really good to hear."

Both girls studied their feet shyly.

"So. How's your brother? Ready for his surgery tomorrow?"

Tori smiled. "Pam told you about Matt? He's pretty nervous but Dr. Corso's done hundreds of this procedure, so this is the best place to have it done."

"Yeah. The nurses told me this is one of the best heart hospitals in the world. I'm sure your brother will be in good hands. And Dr. Corso did my dad's surgery, too. Everyone's been telling us today that he's one of the best doctors here."

After an awkward silence, the other girl spoke. "We just wanted to tell you how happy we are for you and Pam. It just killed us this past year knowing how heartbroken you both have been."

"Yeah. Especially Pam." Tori added.

The other girl nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Oh my God, it killed us to watch her version of asking you on a date when you first came back from Stamford."

"Coffee. So lame. We all figured you didn't even realize she was asking you on a date."

No, she wasn't. She just wanted to catch up. Right? Someone could've seen that conversation and thought she was asking him on a date? No, they had to be –

"– our whole class was blown away by your aloof detachment from Pam this year."

Wait! Did she just say–

"Excuse me – did you say your _whole_ _class_?"

"Oh, yeah. Dr. Hill's AP English class. She had us watch the documentary when we were reading Studs Terkel's Working.

"Wow. You, uh, were _not_ sounding like AP English students at lunch today."

The girl who was not Tori blushed. "Yeah, well, sorry about that. That's Tori. She's our resident valley girl." She poked Tori in the ribs with a mischievous laugh. "She's _totally_ got the hots for you!"

Tori blushed an intense shade of magenta. "Shut _up_, Naomi!"

Ah. Naomi was her name. Well, Naomi was just getting on a roll. She decidedly didn't look the least bit shy anymore.

"So it was like the whole class watched this epic love story, convinced that it ended tragically, and then _we_ –" Naomi motioned between herself and Tori "see the lovers – in the flesh! – _together_!"

"So … you analyze our lives like we're characters in a novel or something?"

"Well, you're not the subject of _class discussion_ anymore but I guess we still talk about you that way. I guess this does sound kinda weird to you, doesn't it?"

"You have _no idea_."

"So, yeah, we'd analyze your motivations and behavior just like we would Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. But the thing was – we knew it was _real_. The weirdest thing for us was knowing we were seeing things – _like every week_ – that would've made you recognize the fallacy of your perceived need for self-preservation."

Holy God, they _did_ analyze them like literary characters.

"The fallacy of my perceived need for self-preservation?"

"Absolutely!"

Jim cocked his eyebrow questioningly at Naomi.

"OK. Like Diwali."

"What's Diwali?"

"Diwali? That was the night when Pam texted you about Michael's proposing to Carol. They were at this Indian celebration that Kelly invited them to. The same night that Andy got you drunk during order form consolidation."

Tori interjected, "Oh, yeah! And we were all trying to figure out if you ever texted or called Pam about it!"

Naomi nodded in agreement, "Yeah. There was never any reference to that text message in the later episodes. Left us wondering if there was a communication the producers didn't know about or if you just blew Pam off. We decided you were afraid to act interested, so you just deleted the message or you replied with some pricky message that would cut her off. Like – _Wow. Typical Michael._"

Well, actually, it was _Loser._

"But the thing was – you should've seen Pam all night. Checking the phone over and over, hoping for a text from you."

"Yeah. If you saw what we saw, you would've known that you weren't going out on a limb at all to call her back." Naomi plowed on ahead. "And like we told you, Pam was so _stoked_ that you were coming back from Stamford. She was all set to ask you out on a date. She was so cute getting ready for you to arrive. She wore pretty clothes and fixed her hair and wore make-up." Naomi added in a confidential tone, "It was _not_ her usual look that morning.

"And, right as you walked in the door, she actually looked _right at the camera _and did this little flirty thing, fluffing her hair. But all day you kept pushing her away. _I'm evolving, Pam. I've sort of started seeing someone." _Naomi pointed her finger in accusation, "Y_ou knew_ what she was trying to do and she didn't do it in a grand enough gesture for you, so you cut her off. I was always thought that you saw her watching you and Karen out of the corner of your eye. You saw her reaction when Karen rubbed your back in the parking lot. Didn't you?"

Yeah. He'd felt her gaze on them – and enjoyed it.

"And we couldn't _believe_ it when you didn't go to Pam's art exhibition. Some of the kids tried to blame it on Karen. But it really didn't matter. You were _always_ the one person who pushed Pam to believe in herself and there she was doing this big, scary thing and you left her alone. Man, she was sad all evening at her art exhibition. She kept looking for you to show up. Yeah that was a bad night. Oscar's boyfriend, Gil – guh, he's so _pretentious_ – he said her art was _motel art_ because she wasn't brave, like Van Gogh. Like every starting artist should be a Van Gogh! But none of that would've mattered to her if you'd shown up. We were so disappointed in you."

_Disappointed? _Who the _hell_ did these girls think they were, judging him like this?

Tori interrupted in a protective, motherly kind of voice. "Well, I thought your feelings were hurt because Pam told everyone about the show except for you. I'm _positive_ she didn't tell you. If Pam had talked to you about it, the camera guys would've made sure to get _that_ on film."

Damn straight, Tori. She'd asked every frigging other person in the office. He'd watched her make a circuit through the office over the course of the day. She looked at him a couple of times like she wanted to talk to him but was afraid. Well, if she couldn't bring herself to tell him about the show, then he figured _screw her_. He wouldn't go.

"– always wished you'd've seen Pam when she had the breakdown over you though. God that was heart wrenching. Everything would've been different after that if you'd only seen it. _That_ would've made you give up all that self-preservation crap."

Jim cleared his throat. "She, um – she had a breakdown?"

"Oh yeah! The day she told you to let Karen take the apartment near you."

Jim blanched. "Really?"

"Ohmygod, Tori! You shouldn't have said that. He didn't know!"

"You started it! Besides, what difference is it going to make? They're _married_ already! Besides, _we're_ not the filmmakers!"

Jim ran his fingers through his hair, "And?"

"Well, OK. Pam was trying so hard to be a good friend when she talked with you in the lunch room. She gave you the advice she'd give you if she wasn't in love with you herself. I think she was actually kinda proud of herself at the time. But when Karen came over and thanked her for _talking sense into Halpert_ – _that_ just about killed her. Dwight found her sobbing in the hallway. Gave her his hanky and put his arm around her. It was very touching, actually. He was all like, _Who did this to you?_"

"_You_ should've found her, not Dwight. Then _everything_ would've been different."

Holy hell, the girl was right about that. Pam had a breakdown that day? And he'd thought the advice she gave him was proof positive that Pam had _no_ interest in him. No one in their right mind would –

"– so glad you finally came through for Pam. Finally came to your senses. We've been so disappointed in you all year. We thought you'd recognize all that pain and ambivalence, since you lived it yourself. But you spent the whole year determined not to see it. I'm glad Pam finally got up enough courage to tell you how much she loves you. We were afraid you'd freeze her out forever."

"Ohmygod, Naomi! It's 6:30. We gotta get back up to the room so my mom and dad can get some dinner. We gotta go. Bye, Jim."

Tori and Naomi rushed out of the cafeteria, leaving a stunned and sullen Jim at the table. Who _did_ these girls think they were, judging him like that? A whole _classroom_ of kids judging him. _We've been so disappointed in you all year. __None of that would've mattered to her if you'd shown up__. … you replied with some pricky message __that would cut her off__._

But he had to admit, they _were_ uncannily accurate. He did intentionally respond to Pam's text with a message that didn't invite another answer. _Loser._ He knew she harbored enough insecurities that she'd wonder what he meant by _Loser_. It would sting just enough that she'd never hit the reply button.

And that day in the parking lot, he _had_ seen her in his peripheral vision. As soon as Karen touched him, in fact, the first thing he'd wondered was whether Pam would witness it. He'd noticed her posture go rigid – and it filled him with a vengeful, mirthless glee.

The art exhibit – they were right about that, too. He was hurt and pissed that she asked everyone in the damn office but him. But, looking back, he had to admit he looked particularly unapproachable any time she hovered near him that day. When she looked like she wanted to start a conversation, he made sure his personal space was impenetrable. She'd chosen Roy and, godammit, Jim was not about to talk with her about any stupid little art exhibit.

But she had a breakdown over him? Sobbed that he took her advice and told Karen to take that apartment? And he'd thought her advice was the nail in the coffin, the final proof that he had to keep moving on. She cried? And _Dwight_ was the one to comfort her? Unbelievable. Karen moved into her apartment right after Michael came back from Jamaica. December. He'd been totally wrong about this for three months?

Jim sat alone at the table, guilty thoughts and bitter memories rolling in an endless loop through his mind, feeling judged and wrong – but not wrongly judged. He wallowed in his solitary misery. Then he began to feel angry. He _was_ an ass to Pam for the last few months – he knew it and, apparently, so did the whole world. But, shit, she had to take _some_ of the blame for putting him in this damn position.

By the time Pam arrived, Jim's mood was thoroughly foul.

"About time you showed up, Beesly." Jim didn't look up long enough to notice Pam's distracted look or her red and puffy eyes. "That Tori and Naomi lit into me for a good half hour."

"Oh, you saw Tori and Naomi? How's Matt? They're sweet girls, really."

Yeah, sweet wasn't the word that came to mind. They probably didn't tell _Pam _that she was a source of constant disappointment. Jesus, his _father_ didn't lay guilt trips as well.

"Well, next time I see them, I'll have _really_ woken up with you!" Pam forced a note of gaiety into her voice. "So, tomorrow I'll save your honor and tell them that, upon further reflection, you _don't_ wake up beautiful, OK? I'll tell them that you wake up a total hunk – handsome and virile!"

Jim gave Pam a silencing look. _Really_ not wanting to go there, Pam. _Not_ trying to think hunky, virile thoughts here tonight.

"Oooh-Kaaaay. You wanna get some food? Did you really wait? I'm sorry I'm so late."

"I ate a slice of pizza. Yeah, I'm still hungry. Let's get some food." Jim pushed up and away from the table and summarily strode away from Pam. They selected their meals in silence. Paid and returned to the table in silence. Began to eat with nary a word uttered between them.

Without much enthusiasm, Pam pushed her meatloaf around the plate. "Did you get a hold of Karen?"

Jesus. Karen again. Would she _not_ let this drop?

Jim lied, "Yeah. I got her."

"What'd she say?" Pam hesitated, "Is she coming down?"

"No. No she's not coming down."

Pam raised her eyebrow in silent question.

"I told her Jon is here with me. OK? I lied. She's not happy about it but she's not coming down."

Pam started to open her mouth.

"Really don't wanna talk about it." There was a harsh edge to Jim's voice.

Pam blew out a breath and continued to rearrange the food on her plate. "You did really well today, Jim. You _held up _real well."

"Oh, do I get a gold star?" The chill in Jim's voice was withering.

Wow. Pam really should have included the displaced anger thing on Jim's hospital lists. This was the second time it happened just today. It was like he was angry with her for being there for him. Maybe she should ask whether Jim wanted her to go home. If her being there was going to actually make things worse for him, well – No, she wouldn't ask if he wanted her to leave. He'd say yes. And then she'd have to go. And she was sure they'd both regret it. His attitude, though – _that_ was beginning to piss her off.

"You know what, Jim? I think you need some time alone. I know I do. I'm exhausted. That all night drive is starting to catch up with me. I think I'll get our stuff and shower and go to bed. Maybe you want to spend a few more minutes with your parents or something."

Jim replied in a testy voice, "Fine. I'll help you carry the stuff from the car."

"I can do it myself. I'll be fine."

"Pam. I really should know where my car is, don't you think? I'll just help you carry the stuff to the room and I'll leave."

"Fine."

They walked to Jim's car in silence. Carried the bags to the room in silence. Jim let Pam open the door and walk into the room before him. She stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the bed in silence. Pam didn't see the wry and humorless smile that appeared on Jim's face behind her. He dropped the bags just inside the door.

"Yeah. OK. I'll be seeing you later, Beesly." He hoped to God she'd be asleep when he returned.


	22. Fair Dinkum Drongo

**Fair Dinkum Drongo**

Pam sat up in bed, reading while she waited for Jim to return. This whole trip was becoming more and more bizarre. Why had she offered to come down here with him? It seemed like such a good idea last night when she was confronted with this shrinking, frightened Jim she'd never seen before. It had seemed like the only right thing to do. Looking back, she'd do it again. She would.

But he was so tense tonight. And she couldn't figure out what had gotten into him. She'd expected him to be upset – but she hadn't expected all his anger to be focused on her. She'd thought she'd have to spend a good part of the day talking him down from being mad at his brother. But that hadn't happened at all. Instead, she'd spent the evening trying to deflect Jim's wrath away from herself.

Well, she _had_ needed a lot of time to herself tonight. That concept evidently had not gone over too well with Jim. Couldn't he understand how hard this was for her? Probably not. How could he imagine what it's like to relive losing a parent when he'd never lost one in the first place?

But that didn't seem to be the whole problem and, for the life of her, Pam couldn't pinpoint what else was eating Jim up. He'd been a wreck in the morning – and he did get kind of pissy when she stopped him from interrupting Nelani at shift change – but he got over that. Going over all the medical information with the doctors was definitely overwhelming for him. Then, meeting those girls at lunch threw him for a loop.

But still, his mood had been kind of a seesaw until sometime after lunch. He was up and down and then, all of a sudden, it was like someone flipped a switch. He just got – weird – in the late afternoon. He was lost in his thoughts and kept glowering at her with this accusatory look. Between Jim's constant glare and the incessant hissing of the ventilator, Pam had been sure she was going to lose her mind. So she'd escaped to his mother's room.

Ah! It was after checking in to the Guest Accommodations that Jim had become so tense. This room – that was it! Now that she thought about it, he had even more reason to be freaked out about this room situation than she did. What if Karen found out? Shit! What if he thought she offered to come down here as a way to seduce him? Maybe he thought she'd foreseen this room with one bed? Oh, God – he couldn't actually think that of her, could he? That she'd take advantage of him at a stressful time like this? Her heart started to palpitate as she tried to imagine what Jim was thinking of her. This was _so_ not good.

Pam tried to calm her nerves by pretending that she was just living one of her fantasies right now. Truth be told, she'd often wistfully imagined a scene just like this: sitting in bed, reading a magazine, maybe with a glass of wine, waiting for Jim to come home to her. Except, in her fantasies, Jim was coming home from a basketball game or a poker night with his buddies – not from visiting his unconscious parents in the CCU. And he'd be _happy_ to climb into bed with her, not dreading it as he seemed to be tonight.

Finally, Pam heard the click of the electronic lock. Her gaze followed the sound and she watched Jim enter the room. He looked surprised – and not pleasantly so – to see her regarding him. As he tossed a bag onto the table, he spoke gruffly, "Hey. I thought you were tired and going to sleep."

"Yeah. I, um, I guess I got a second wind. I couldn't sleep, so I was reading this magazine."

"Oh."

Over the years, Pam and Jim had shared many comfortable silences but this wasn't one of them. Pam felt like she could touch the hostility that filled the quiet. She exhaled softly. "You really should take a shower. You'll feel a lot better when you get out."

"Yeah. Maybe I will." And, without another word, Jim disappeared into the bathroom. Pam heard the shower start to flow and the squeak of the metal shower rings scraping across the shower curtain rod. Then nothing but water for a very long time. She tried to imagine Jim – flexing his muscles, rolling his shoulders and neck, trying to rinse off the pressure of the day.

Eventually, the water stopped and the bathroom door opened. Jim emerged, rubbing his hair with a hand towel, a bath towel slung low around his hips. Pam's eyes widened in startled appreciation. Without thinking, she murmured, "Hell-oooo, Beautiful."

Fuck. He did _not_ appreciate that comment. How could she be so dumb?

Jim crossed the room to retrieve the shopping bag and took it with him into the bathroom. A moment later he emerged again, this time with the light blue cotton scrubs low on his hips. Pam groaned inwardly. Keeping her hands to herself tonight was going to be – unbelievably difficult. She wasn't sure she had this kind of strength in her. Well, this attitude of unadulterated hostility would help _some_ to keep her in check.

Jim motioned toward the light switch with a question in his eye. Pam answered, "Yeah. Sure. Thanks."

Jim flicked off the light and climbed into bed, clinging to very opposite edge. His voice softly broke the quiet. "Night, Pam. I'm sorry I've been a shit tonight. I'm really stressed out."

"It's OK. I know what you're going through."

Jim sighed. "Yeah. I guess you do." He lay rigidly unmoving across the chasm of stiff cotton. Pam could hear him breathing deeply, sighing often.

"Hey, what're you thinking about?"

Jim hesitated a moment before replying. "I was thinking about the only other time someone said I was beautiful. It was the night of your wedding, June 10th. I spent the night with this wonderful Australian girl. She said I was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen."

Pam felt her face prickle and flush. Thank God they were surrounded by the darkness – she _really_ didn't want him to see her cry. There _must_ be a reason he was telling her this – she'd just lay here, in silence, until he got to the point.

He sighed heavily. "I didn't know what to do with myself that day. I was too anxious to sit still but I didn't want to be _with_ anyone. Couldn't imagine holding it together to have a normal conversation. So I took the bus out to the Taronga Zoo. Spent the whole day walking. The zoo was about empty because it was a pretty cold day. Freezing, in fact. It felt right to me though." Jim's voice took on an unmistakable edge. "Felt like my insides and my outsides were in sync, you know?"

"I didn't want to go back to my room after the zoo closed. Didn't want to talk but I sure as hell didn't want to be alone. So I wandered into this neighborhood bar. Got a sandwich and decided to try one of every beer they had on tap. I, uh, kinda started to lose it after about the fourth beer. I was just sitting at this table, literally crying into my beer."

_Jim stopped speaking as his mind drifted back to June 10th. He was full of despair, staring into space, feeling hollow and seeing nothing. He was unable to stanch the flow of tears that streamed down his face. He barely noticed when a beautiful young woman pulled up the other chair at the table and sat down across from him. "Hey, seppo. You wanna talk about her?"_

_He didn't know what a seppo was – had he __just__ been __insulted? And__ he really, really didn't want to talk about Pam. But he did. He glanced down at his watch and did a quick calculation – even in his inebriated state and seventeen time zones away, he had a firm handle on this timeline. Like an inmate awaiting __his__ final __walk, Jim's__ mind was fixated on the countdown to 2 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. 4 a.m. on June 11 Australian Eastern Standard Time. So her wedding got to fuck with his mind for __two__ days. He couldn't get June 10th out of his head but in Sydney it would be the early hours of the morning on June 11 when his execution was consummated._

_He fixed a mournful gaze on the girl and began to slur, __"In about six hours, she's gonna walk down that aisle and marry that fucking asshole. All I ever wanted was to make her happy and he doesn't even want to talk to her." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Not fair, you know? She should fucking love me!" He chugged the rest of his beer and cast __about for__ the bartender to order another. Once started, he couldn't stanch the flow of words any more than he could the tears. He told this young woman all about the history of Pam and Jim. Years' worth. She sat and listened as he drank several more beers and unleashed his grief._

_After a while, she said softly, "You're already drunk off your ass, buddy. You'd better stop now or you'll be puking all night. And you'll feel like shit tomorrow. You know what you really need?"_

_In his alcohol-induced haze, Jim __had absolutely no idea what he needed__. He shook his head mutely in reply._

"_You need someone to hold you while you cry tonight. You come to my place. I promise not to take advantage of you. C'mon, my flat's about five minutes from here."_

_After he paid his bill, she stood by his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. Jim leaned heavily on her as they weaved their way through the two blocks to her flat. She gave him a huge glass of water and some aspirin._

"_Here. Take this so you don't have to go to the chemist tomorrow. Drink it down, there."_

_They collapsed into her bed, fully clothed and, just as she'd promised, she held Jim all night. While he was talking, while he was crying and, eventually, while he was snoring. He awoke in her arms the next morning._

"_G'day, mate!" She whispered it into his hair and lightly kissed the top of his head. "See? You did live through the night. It's not gonna be easy, but you'll live through it. How d'ya feel?"_

"_Like shit. Hungry. Not as hung over as I expected, though."_

"_Good onya. Glad the hangover's not so bad."_

_Jim __paused while he tried to think of a polite way to continue. __"This__ is really weird – and totally embarrassing – but I, um, I don't – I can't remember your name."_

"_I never __told you__. You __didn't ask__ and __it didn't__ seem that important. It's Angie. C'mon. You need a good brekkie. Let's get you to Pancakes on the Rocks. It's the only place in Sydney where you can get good American pancakes."_

_They showered and dressed. Jim felt semi-human, even if he his clothes did still reek of smoke and bar smells from the night before. At the restaurant, Angie asked Jim more about Pam. He talked until he was out of words. It was cathartic to get it all out to someone who listened without judging him._

"_This __girl__ is fair dinkum drongo if you ask me. The way you love her –" Angie reached across the table and squeezed Jim's hand. "– well, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I hope someday she realizes __how stupid __she was when she said, 'I can't.'"_

"_Um – fair dinkum drongo?"_

"_Yeah! An idiot. A real idiot. Fair dinkum drongo!"_

_He'd tried to pay the bill but Angie wouldn't have it. "No worries! This is on me."_

"_Angie, why're you doing all this for me? You don't know me and you're never going to see me again."_

"_I had this same kind of heartache a couple of years ago, Jim. A friend held me all night and helped me get through it. Without Steve, I don't know what I would've done. And you're a bloody seppo, for God's sake. A Yank. All your friends are on the other side of the big pond. And I think this Pam is the __one__whose shoulder you would've cried on__, anyway. Well, about anything else. You needed someone – bad – and there was no one here for you."_

Jim's mind drifted back to the present. He realized they'd both lain silent for a while. He couldn't remember the last thing he'd said aloud.

"So. You had great sex with this girl who said you were the most beautiful man she'd ever seen." The sarcasm in Pam's voice made Jim feel defensive.

"No, actually. No sex at all. She held me all night while I cried like a girl and tried my damnedest to start getting over you." A note of bitterness crept into Jim's voice. "She said you were fair dinkum drongo."

"What?"

"A real idiot. I hung onto to that idea for a long time."

The memory of those two weeks of loneliness and pain set something off in Jim and he felt an irresistible urge to goad Pam. "Yeah. I'd tell myself _Pam is fair dinkum drongo_. Especially after you got together with Roy at Phyllis' wedding. I used to fantasize about replacing your _Receptionist_ sign with one that said _Pam Beesly, Fair Dinkum Drongo._"

Pam lay rigid on her back beside him, relieved for the darkness that hid the tears rolling down her temples. All she could manage was, "Yeah. I guess I was."

Silence overpowered them again. Abruptly Jim announced, "Tori told me that they caught you crying over me and aired it." Jesus Christ, what the fuck was wrong with him? Pam had done _nothing_ to deserve this treatment. And now she'd either have to deny or –

" – time?"

Damn! What had she said? "I'm sorry. What time?"

"That's what I asked _you_. Which time did they catch me?"

A note somewhere between incredulity and gloating found its way into Jim's voice. Even with everything he'd heard from Naomi and Tori earlier in the evening, it still was damn near impossible to grasp that he'd been so wrong about Pam's feelings. "There was more than one? You cried over me more than once?"

Pam acerbically replied, "What? That makes you happy, Jim? Yeah, I've cried over you a lot in the last nine months. So _which_ of my at work crying jags made it onto national TV?"

Jim felt the sting of her words. "The day we did inventory and you told me to let Karen take the apartment near mine."

Pam rolled over so that her back was toward Jim. "Oh, yeah. Definitely was fair dinkum drongo that day."

Jim lay beside Pam, full of remorse, feeling very much fair dinkum drongo himself.


	23. She Felt Whole

**She Felt Whole**

Pam lazily drifted into consciousness feeling well-rested and relaxed. She couldn't remember the last time she woke up feeling this good. She vaguely remembered the strain of the prior night and felt mildly surprised that she should awaken feeling so calm and satisfied. She smiled and inhaled a deep breath. Then she became aware of it. As her torso swelled, she felt the warm pressure of Jim's chest pressed against her back. His elbow rested on her hip bone. His hand was clasped within her own and tucked beneath her chin. She felt his forearm rise with her expanding chest.

Pam's left leg extended straight out along the soft sheets; her right, bent with the knee extended before her. She felt – yes! – she felt his legs follow the same contour: his left leg touching the length of hers; his right, resting atop her left thigh, bending directly behind her right knee, his foot sensually lazing against her left calf.

Jim's face was pressed into her hair and his steady breathing told her that he was deep in a restful sleep. Pam took a few deep breaths, just to savor the light pressure of Jim's arm nestled between her breasts. It filled her with a contentment that she couldn't quite articulate, except to say that she felt whole. It was still dark, no need to get up just yet. She smiled and slipped back to sleep.


	24. Jim

**Jim**

Jim awoke with a tickle in his nose. He was wrapped all around Pam, his face nestled into her hair, their limbs entwined comfortably – as if they slept together all the time. They both lay on their left sides and his entire body followed the contours of Pam's. Her back pressed lightly against his bare chest. Her fingers were interlaced with his and both of their hands were tucked beneath her cheek. Pam's breasts softly hugged his forearm. His right thigh was settled intimately at the very top of Pam's left thigh.

Some people wake slowly, with minds meandering through a hazy state of semi-consciousness until they are fully alert. Jim Halpert wasn't one of them. When he awoke every morning, his eyes popped right open. So on this particular morning, he was fully aware, fully sensing Pam's warm body, fully ready to – Damn! Cold shower! Gotta get a cold shower! Right away, before Pam felt that and freaked out.

He tried to disentangle his limbs from Pam's without waking her. As he lifted his right arm, Pam grasped his hand tightly and firmly replaced it under her cheek. She breathed out a small contented sounding sigh and rubbed her cheek against his hand. She lightly toed his left shin and hugged his forearm to her chest. Jim was almost sure he could feel a faint smile as she burrowed her cheek against the back of his hand.

"Pam?"

No response.

"Pam? You awake?"

Nothing but another soft sigh.

Jim suddenly found himself grinning. This was unbelievable. He was waking up with Pam Beesly in his arms! He had utterly given up hope that this could ever happen and here she was, keeping him close to her – even in her sleep. How had he ever thought he was past wanting this? And if those girls were right, if Pam felt something for him, too – Damn. His father had been completely, one hundred percent right. As soon as he thought there was any possibility that Pam wanted him –

He thought back to what Pam had said when she gave him the wedding band at the gas station in York. "You still loved me too. And you realized that you've been _trying_ to love Karen but it was never going to happen." She had no idea. Truer words were never spoken.

Jim mulled over the other things Pam had said when they exchanged the rings she'd bought. _I've been in love with you for years now … I made the worst mistake of my life when I let you go on Casino Night … It's been killing me to watch you and Karen every day … I realized how much I hurt you._

Were those things true, too? He certainly wouldn't push her right now – they were under too much stress already. But over the next few days he sure as hell was going to start_ really _repairing their fractured friendship. And when he was back in Scranton he knew he'd have to face Karen and finally tell her the truth. No amount of trying would give them a future together.

But – with any luck, if they could finally be honest with each other – maybe, just maybe he could have a future with Pam.


	25. Saturday Morning

**Saturday Morning**

Pam awoke feeling slightly chilled and befuddled. Something was not quite right – but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. Just think. She'd been reading in bed, tingling in nervous anticipation for Jim's arrival … He'd been all tense and testy when he told her about his June 10th in Sydney, convinced that she'd married Roy … And he'd been positively _delighted_ to hear that she'd cried over him more than once. What a shit. Thinking about that made her feel pissed off all over again. She didn't think he had that kind of vengefulness in him.

She had a vague recollection of waking up spooning with Jim, more of a sensation, really. As she remembered the warmth of his body against hers, her irritation washed away, replaced by a wave of contentment. Did she dream it, or was it real? It sure _felt_ like she was remembering, not imagining.

Pam rolled over to examine Jim's side of the bed, looking for any evidence that he'd spent the night snuggled on her side of the mattress. The comforter formed a large triangle at the upper edge, where Jim had evidently flung it back as he got out of bed. No help there.

Pam tentatively reached out to touch the sheets. Were they warmer close to her than over on his side? No. They were warm a few feet away from her. Either he'd rolled away from her at some point, or she'd imagined the whole thing. Damn. It felt so real. She wanted so much for it to be real.

Pam glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. The red numbers glowed 6:36. Damn! _That_ was reality. Jim's parents were on the fifth floor of the next building, weakly clinging to life. It was certainly in the realm of possibility that, within the next few days, Jim would lose both of his parents. And here she was worried about whether they'd cuddled the night before. Unbelievable. She was unbelievable. She'd lived through this with her father, so she should know better. Romance was the farthest thing from Jim's mind. He didn't need her imposing that kind of dynamic into their relations now. He just needed a friend.

6:38 – if they didn't hurry, they might miss all the doctors. She tossed the covers back and jumped out of bed to throw on her clothes.

Some people wake up fully aware and ready to meet the day. Pam Beesly wasn't one of them. She always drifted dreamily into consciousness. Even after she was upright, she wasn't fully functional for at least an hour. Since leaving Roy, she'd learned to make accommodations to compensate for her morning sluggishness. Every evening she chose the next day's clothes. She filled the tea kettle with just enough water for one mug and laid the teabag next to it. She set a box of cereal, a bowl and a spoon on her tiny kitchen table. It was quite the nighttime ritual – but, now that she didn't have Roy to prod her along in the morning, it was the only way she made it to work on time.

So, on Friday night while she waited for Jim, Pam had laid out her clothes for Saturday – an outfit that Kelly had talked her into buying. The jeans and soft microfiber top hugged her curves, but weren't so tight that they looked slutty. Kelly'd convinced her that "this outfit accentuates your _assets_, Pam!" Even though she knew her priorities were horribly askew, she couldn't help hoping that Jim would notice.

She'd laid out her toiletries on the counter in the bathroom: contact lens case, deodorant, brush, barrette, and make-up were all aligned in a neat row, waiting for her. But Jim was in the shower. That was weird now that she thought about it. He'd bathed last night before he came do bed. Didn't he? Pam shook her head hard, trying to wake up, questioning whether anything she remembered of the prior night was true.

Pam put on the jeans, the top and the "adorable little flats" that Kelly insisted were required to "complete the look." She sat fidgeting at the edge of the bed, waiting for Jim to come out of the bathroom, and watched the red digits change on the clock, feeling more anxious each time the minute ticked up again. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, picked at her nails, cupped her jaw in her right hand, fretting silently. The doctors made rounds in minutes flat. The window of opportunity to meet with them was so brief. What could be taking Jim so long? The water had finally stopped but she didn't hear an exhaust fan, so the mirror would be fogged and the room would surely be steamy and her hair would morph into a frizzy mess. Oh, well. She'd just have to deal. This wasn't a beauty contest and no one would even notice her appearance.

When the clock's red numbers glowed an ominous 6:57, Pam couldn't handle the tension any more and she finally knocked on the door. "Uh – Jim? We'd better get over there in a few minutes. Can I use the bathroom?"

"Oh, sure. Sorry." The door opened and Jim emerged fully clothed. The mirror was crystal clear and there was no hint of steam anywhere. Jim motioned toward the door. "All yours. Sorry I took so long."

"That's OK. I'll only be a minute. Do you want to wait for me or head straight over?"

"I'll wait."

"OK. Great. I'll only be a minute." Good going, Pam. Just said that. She quickly worked her way through the line of toiletries. Contacts in. Deodorant on. Hair beaten into submission and lassoed into a barrette. Just a hint of blush and mascara. She was done in six minutes flat. Did _not_ want to hear they'd "just missed" any doctors because she took too long getting ready.

She opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. "OK, let's go."

Jim sprang up from his reclining position on the bed. He'd settled in for a few minutes rest, thinking Pam would take at least twenty minutes. "Are you kidding me? You're _ready_? I've _never_ seen a woman get ready in five minutes before!"

Pam laughed quietly at Jim's awe of her speed-grooming prowess.

"Never?"

"Not once!"

"Well, Halpert, brushing your hair and throwing on some blush is hardly Project Runway."

"I'm telling you it's a new speed record as far as I'm concerned. Andnot only are you the fastest makeup artist east of the Mississippi –" He planted his hands on her shoulders, stepping back to appraise her seriously as his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "– you look beautiful."

Pam felt a shock wave radiate from her chest. Did not expect that tone of voice. At all. She couldn't suppress the tiny smile or the flush that rose to her cheeks as she poked Jim in the chest. "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious, Pam. You look _beautiful_. You know, no one's gonna believe our elopement story if you're not careful. No one will believe you'd marry a slob like me."

Pam managed to look up at Jim without lifting her head, bashfully regarding him through her lashes and bangs. "You're so full of it" she murmured, momentarily forgetting her resolve to maintain the _just friends_ dynamic. "What people would find hard to believe is that mousy little me could snag a looker like _you_."

Jim quirked his eyebrow at Pam. "A looker like me?"

"Yeah, you heard it. Don't go fishing, Mr. Halpert. Now, c'mon – let's get over there before we miss the doctors."

Under the circumstances, it felt sort of inappropriate but, Jim had to admit, it also felt awfully good to flirt a little. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Halpert! Like my Uncle Jim says … _The wife is always right._"

* * *

_Thanks to **TaioraWarrior** and **HonoraryDAMember** for reviewing every chapter! I appreciate it!_


	26. Not a Bad Day

**Not a Bad Day**

"Holy hell, Beesly! Have you taken up track & field in your spare time or something? I can hardly keep up with you."

"You've been trying to butter me up all morning. You think that, if you do this enough, I'll go downstairs and buy your breakfast?"

"Damn! Busted."

It felt good to be laughing together as Pam pushed the huge red button to enter the CCU. But, as the doors groaned their way slowly open, the pair immediately noticed a flurry of activity at Larissa's bed. Jim instinctively reached for Pam's hand as he rushed toward his mother's room.

As they reached the doorway, they spied Nelani. "Nelani! What's wrong? What happened?"

"No, Jim. Nothing's wrong. Your mom's being moved to 3 West. We knew this would happen. It was just a fluke that we had a bed free for a few hours and to keep your parents together. Your mom doesn't require critical care and we have a new cardiac patient who needs this bed."

Nelani continued, "Since there are two of you, you might want to split up so one of you is with each parent. I don't want to tell you what to do but – Pam does have a better understanding of cardiac issues. And your mom doesn't know about –" Nelani pursed her lips and gestured between the two of them. "As soon as she comes to is probably not the best time to break the news. Your dad'll be sedated for at least one more day. So maybe it would be better if Pam stayed up here this morning and you go with your mom to her new room."

Pam and Jim looked at each other and nodded in sad agreement. As pleasant as the morning had been, renewing their friendship wasn't the point of being there. At the outset, Pam had promised to do whatever Jim needed. Right now he needed to be with his mother and still know that he wouldn't miss any important information about his father's condition.

Nelani gently touched Jim's arm. "You don't need to go just yet. It'll take them a while to get everything together to move your mom."

Pam took a deep breath. "Hey, Jim, how about I run down and get us some breakfast? It'll give you a few minutes alone with your dad. Maybe we'll have time to eat before you have to leave."

Jim bit his lower lip and nodded. "OK."

Pam turned to Nelani, who was still standing between the two of them. "You want anything, Nelani?"

"No, Pam; I know you want to have breakfast together before Jim heads down. You just hurry back."

* * *

Pam surveyed the breakfast choices before her. Definitely something from the griddle – to Jim Halpert, hot food was comfort food. She'd seen it over and over though years of shared lunches. If Jim was having a rough day, he'd open a menu and announce, "I think I want something hot today." He probably wasn't even aware of the correlation but Pam had noticed.

So. No cereal.

The cook was setting out some freshly made ham, egg and cheese muffins. Perfect. Hopefully, it'd still be hot when he got to eat it. In fact, she'd get two. She liked the idea of having the same breakfast as Jim today.

She picked up a banana in case he got hungry later. Large coffee, splash of milk. She really couldn't fathom how he could drink anything this putrid shade of brown but he did it every morning. She made a hot tea and grabbed a yogurt for herself. Didn't matter what flavor. She probably wouldn't taste it anyway.

Balancing the tray, Pam made her way to the elevators. She wound her way through the halls, following the red trail to the CCU. As she entered the unit, she noticed that Mrs. Halpert's bed was empty and headed directly to Mr. Halpert's room. Jim was sitting alone with his father, looking relieved. It was the most relaxed she'd seen him look in days, actually.

"Hey."

Pam nodded her head in the direction of the rolling tray table by Mr. Halpert's bed. "Would you mind?"

Jim jumped to his feed. "Oh, sure! Sorry." He began to rearrange the flotsam that had accumulated on the tiny table as Pam patiently waited with the tray in her hands. As he worked, he began to speak quietly.

"So, Dr. Yazdani showed up from The Heart Group. She was _really_ encouraging. She said they've taken dad off some of the meds –" Jim motioned to the IV poles, which were indeed less crowded. "And his blood pressure is stabilizing a bit. _And_," Jim continued with real excitement in his voice, "_his ejaculation fraction has_ _shown measurable improvement. In fact, it's approaching normal for a man his age._" Jim dropped his voice even further, trying to emulate the doctor's somber tone of voice.

He looked over at Pam, motioning to the newly cleared spot on the tray table. "What?" She was openly laughing at him. Not just sharing his relief. No, she was barely holding on, suppressing her laughter only until – yep, there it was – until she set the tray on the table. Then both hands flew to her mouth and her eyes twinkled in delight as she doubled over with peals of laughter.

"_What?" _Jim repeated a bit more aggressively.

"His _ejaculation_ fraction is approaching normal for a man his age?" Pam asked in a voice tremulous with repressed giggles.

"Yes. That's what she said."

Pam doubled over again with laugher. She bit her lip and asked, "So. How exactly do they measure this ejaculation fraction?"

Jim tilted his head questioningly at her.

"Do they pop in some ear buds, call a sex hotline and wait to see what happens?"

What the _hell_ was she talking about?

"Jim! It's e_-jec-_tion fraction not e-_jacula-_tion fraction!" Pam was laughing so hard a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Oh my God." Jim flushed to the tips of his ears. "I'm never gonna live this down, am I?"

"Oh, no, Halpert. I'll hold this over your head as long as you live!" Pam wiped her eyes as she sat down. "Approaching normal for a man his age. That's what she said. Oh, man. I can't remember the last time I laughed this hard." She motioned to the tray table. "C'mon. Eat your breakfast while it's still hot."

Jim motioned between the two wrapped sandwiches, a question in his eye.

"Either one. They're the same."

Jim unwrapped a sandwich and bit into it as he sat down. "Oh. So good, Beesly. I was hoping you'd get me something hot but I forgot to mention it till you were already gone."

Pam shot Jim a shy smile. Her eyes looked happy, like she thought she'd accomplished something.

"Yes?" Jim drew out the question.

"I just – well – You always want something hot when you're stressed."

Jim studied her face. She looked genuinely proud that she got it right.

"I do?"

"Yep."

"I do not. I'm not _that_ predictable."

As Pam bit into her sandwich, she laughed. "Oh, but yes, you are."

As she chewed, Pam gazed at nothing in particular. Jim could see in her eyes that she was visualizing, remembering. She set down her sandwich as she started counting on her fingers.

"That time you and Jon had the big fight and he wouldn't talk to you for like a week? Hot roast beef sandwich at the Dunmore Diner.

"The time you thought you lost your grandfather's pocket watch and didn't know what to say to your mom? Lasagna at Antonio's.

"The time you agreed to dog sit for your friend and the dog escaped for like two days? Meatloaf and mashed potatoes at the Keystone Diner."

Pam stared at Jim with a smug smile and three fingers extended. "Oh! How could I forget? Right before you moved in with Mark – when you were still living with that guy, Dave? His girlfriend had about moved in with you guys and every time you walked in the door they were half undressed, making out on the sofa? You kept saying you felt like a prisoner and you couldn't leave your room." Pam paused for dramatic effect. "A whole _week_ of eating out and every day you said, 'I think I'll have something hot.' Your Monday lunch sat in the fridge the whole week."

Pam raised her eyebrows at Jim as she wriggled all the fingers on one hand and three on the other.

Jim laughed, "How the hell do you remember all this, Beesly?"

"Well, I was i–" Pam bit her lip. "You were my best friend. I just noticed these things." Pam was suddenly very interested in scrutinizing her breakfast sandwich and wouldn't meet his eyes.

Wow. Jim used to think _You're my best friend_ was the worst thing Pam could ever say to him. But _You were my best friend_ was orders of magnitude worse.

Without looking up, Pam leaned her shoulder into Jim's arm as she asked warmly, "So, do I impress and amaze you with my vast knowledge of all things Jim?" Her gesture and tone were enough to take the sting out of her previous comment.

"Absolutely. I can't believe you know all that."

"Well, I got the Trivial Pursuit: Halpert Edition and memorized all the answers." Pam paused as she looked directly into Jim's eyes. "I'd challenge anyone to prove they know more about you than I do."

Wow. Was she throwing down the gauntlet? That sure came across like _I know you better than Karen does_. No doubt about that. Not going there, though. Not today.

Pam was looking at Jim expectantly. Waiting for him to take up the challenge.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"More than my mom?" he deflected.

Pam jutted out her chin. "Maybe!"

Jim gave her a skeptical look. "Really."

"Ok, let's see. I know you use fabric softener."

"Well, yeah. You were with me when I bought some. That's not exactly a secret, Pam."

"Fine. I know you wear blue when you're happy and black when you're nervous.

"I know you don't play guitar as well as you'd like but you're spotty about practicing.

"I know basketball is your release when – things at work – get to be too intense. Someday you wanna coach your kid's basketball team – and it won't matter if it's the boys' team or the girls'.

"I know you like macaroni and cheese but only with ham.

"I know your iPod playlists mean something to you; they're not just collections of nice songs."

Pam leaned back and grinned at his look of amazement. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I speak truth, do I not?"

Jim shook his head wordlessly and laughed in disbelief. Sure, some of those things she could have observed; but a lot of it was conjecture. He'd never talked to her about guitar or basketball or his dreams about coaching his kids. He'd sure as hell never allowed her to see his playlists. What could he possibly say in response to that kind of flattery? And, since there was nothing she could say to top it, the two sat in contented silence.

Jim slid his chair to his father's side and reached through the rails to grasp his hand. It didn't feel as cold as it had yesterday. Jim's eyes swept the room. Down to two IV poles. Pulse ox 99 – of course, he was still on the ventilator, so maybe that was a given. He watched the blood pressure numbers for a few minutes; they hovered around 100/70. He guessed that was still low, but at least it was pretty steady, didn't vary by more than a few points up and down each time the numbers refreshed. That had to be a good sign, right?

Jim leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he felt relief wash over him. The day was going unexpectedly well. His mom was well enough that they couldn't justify keeping her in critical care anymore. She'd probably wake up soon and he could actually talk to her.

His dad seemed to be stabilizing. Jim's lips curled into a slight smile as he laughed at himself. His dad's _ejaculation fraction_ was approaching normal for a man his age.

He'd woken up with Pam Beesly in his arms. And he'd learned that she had apparently studied him for years with the same devoted attention that he'd always given her.

It was only 8 a.m. and all this good news already. Not a bad day.


	27. Parents and Playlists

**Parents and Playlists**

Jim sat quietly at his mother's bedside, watching her sleep. Emily, her nurse, had told him that it might be a while before she woke up. With two broken limbs and a long incision along her abdomen, her journey – being transported from a bed to a gurney, rumbling through the hospital corridors, and then being lifted into another bed – would have been very painful. So the nurses upstairs had given her a dose of morphine right before she was moved. And Emily was right; his mom hadn't so much as twitched in the hour Jim had sat by her side.

He wondered when Jon would finally get his message. And was this trip even accomplishing Jon's goal of salvaging his relationship with Tina. Probably not. Tina was nice and all; Jim liked her, really he did. But he could just never quite figure out exactly what the two of them were doing together. They seemed to want very different things out of life. Of course, Jon said the exact same thing about him and Karen.

The whole family did, actually. His mom had told him that she could see he just wasn't happy. She never mentioned Karen's name, though; she was too diplomatic for that.

His dad, though – his dad could've started a war if he'd been in the foreign service. He rather prided himself on "being blunt when the situation warrants it." One evening about a month ago, pretty damn near out of the blue, he'd announced to Jim, "You know, I didn't raise my sons to use women like this."

He remembered being so angry that he could _literally_ feel his temples swell. Even though he didn't need to, he still asked, "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, Jim. You know exactly I'm talking about – the way you're treating Karen."

"I have _no idea_ what you're talking about. She's my girlfriend. How is that using her?" It had felt false, even as he said it.

"Don't bullshit me, Jim. That girl is in love with you. And _you_ are biding time. You are going to hurt that girl, and the longer you carry on this charade, the worse it's going to be."

Jim had flushed with anger. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh. Really?"

"None. Absolutely none."

"OK. I'm going to ask you some questions. I don't expect you to answer them out loud. I don't _want_ you to answer them out loud. I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear your answers, if you're honest. And you have to live with it if you can't be." Jim's father started to count on his fingers.

"Are you sleeping with her?" His hand flew up to silence Jim as he started to protest.

"Do you love her?" Between each question, Jim's dad paused for what seemed an interminable length of time while he challenged his son with his eyes.

"Can you honestly envision any future with her?

"What do you say and do when she tells you that she loves you?" Jim's dad had tilted his head, watching his son's reaction, waiting to ask his last question.

"Do you let her believe you see a future together?"

Jim rubbed his forehead as he remembered the explosion that followed those questions.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are? You know _nothing_ about our relationship. I am so tired of your sanctimonious bullshit …" And it had just gotten worse from there. He'd stormed out of his parents' house in an outrage and hadn't set foot in it since. Hadn't spoken to his father, either. Rather than being civil and asking for his mother, he'd actually hung up the phone once when his dad answered.

His mom had tried to smooth things over between them, to no avail. His father was now convinced that Jim was an utter jackass. Jon told him so about a week ago. Told him that he agreed, too.

What a fucking mess. His dad was right. He'd made a fucking mess of his life _and_ Karen's. She _was_ in love with him. Lately, the words would sometimes escape from her lips like prisoners who'd burst out of confinement. It wasn't that way always. The first few times she told him, she looked hopeful, expectant, that he would say the words back.

But his dad was right. When she told him, he never responded as she hoped. Internally, he recoiled in shock. Every time. He'd say "thanks" or "I'm really happy I'm with you." And she'd try to hide it, but she always looked a little wounded.

So she'd started to guard those words, to bar them behind her pretty white teeth. But every once in a while, when they had tender sex or when he did something especially nice for her – because he _did_ do that sometimes, he thought defensively – then a "God, I love you" would escape. And Karen's eyes would widen and he could _see_ her brace herself for his next inappropriate response – but with just the barest residue of hope in her eyes. It killed him to be unable to say it back.

And even so, even though he could never make himself say he loved her, he still made plans far into the future. They made plans for things they'd do in the summer, while he couldn't bring himself to look beyond next week.

His dad was _totally_ right, dead on the money. She was in love; he was biding time. That's what was so infuriating. To be called on the carpet like that, to feel like he'd lost his dad's respect, and that he _deserved_ to lose it, well it was too much to face in an instant, and he'd lashed out.

So here he was, a month later – his dad on a ventilator, fighting for his life – and he might never get the chance to apologize. It made him ill to think about it. Nauseated and chilled. He closed his eyes as he willed the nausea to pass. He had to think positive. His dad would wake up and somehow he'd make this right.

Jim's eyes popped open as he heard the sheets rustling on the bed. He turned his gaze toward his mother and watched as she roused herself from a deep sleep.

"Hey, Mom." He reached through the plastic bed rail to take her good hand between his own and brushed it gently with the pads of his fingertips. His mother responded strangely, as if there was a stimulus and a voice she couldn't quite locate.

"Mom. Mom, how are you feeling?" He continued to rub the back of her hand with his thumb. His mother inhaled deeply and turned her head slowly, like a radio telescope seeking a signal. She thrust out her chin as she breathed deeply again. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, only to fall shut. Her mouth moved as if to say something but no sound came out.

Jim leaned in close so he might hear whatever it was his mother was trying to say. He held his breath and tried to ignore the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

Larissa blew out a soft breath and sank back on her pillow, spent from the effort of trying to locate the voice she heard and the touch she felt. It was too much. Too far away. She sank back into her stupor and fell into sleep.

Jim watched his mother drift back into unconsciousness. It was hard to believe this was his mother, really. He could hardly remember a time when she didn't look neat, well groomed. Larissa Halpert was definitely not a glamorous woman. He'd have to say his mother was – tidy. Yes, that was it. Tidy. Blouses always tucked in. Pants pressed. Not a fancy hairstyle, but one that was easy to manage, with every hair clearly in place.

The woman who lay before him was unkempt, disheveled. Her hair was matted and dirty; she was bruised; the hospital gown hung haphazardly on her frame. His mother was so dignified and this woman was just – not.

Jim sighed as he leaned back in the chair. At least this room had a halfway comfortable chair. Cushioned and upholstered with vinyl. Man, this could be a very long and boring day if she just kept sleeping. Probably good for her, though. No way she was gonna feel comfortable when she woke up.

He looked around the room. It looked like she had a roommate. There were flowers and cards and general hospital debris strewn about the other side of the room. But the bed was empty. He wondered idly who she was, what she was in for. God, he made it sound like prison or something.

He leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes, his forehead, his temples. He felt antsy, wanted to take a walk, but he sure as hell didn't want his mother to wake up all alone in this strange room.

He pulled out his iPod and started to scroll through his playlists. What was it Pam said to him over breakfast? "I know your iPod has playlists that mean something to you; they're not just collections of nice songs." Well, they weren't _all_ meaningful but there were definitely a lot that were. _Inspiration_ had the songs he'd listen to while he was setting up a prank on Dwight. Stuff like Weird Al Yankovic and the themes from Lord of the Rings and Battlestar Galactica. He scrolled forward. _Perseverance_ was the music that got Jim through long runs: groups like Nickelback, Fuel, Seether, Hinder.

As he scrolled through the playlists, he realized he truly did have quite a number of these themed lists. He stopped scrolling when he saw _BZ Intro _and_ BZ_. And, yeah. These were the reason Pam never got her hands on either of his iPods. He'd had the lists forever. _BZ Intro_ was songs he wanted her to hear. If she liked the song when he played it for her, it stayed. Otherwise, deleted. _BZ_ was full of songs that reminded him of her: angsty songs, happy songs, silly songs. Mostly love songs. The list was huge, really, and too varied to say it was a certain style of music or group of artists. Because, face it, what didn't remind him of Pam?

There were no corresponding lists for Karen. Katy never got one, either. Why? Oh, yeah. Because he was just _biding his time_ with both of them. He was _not_ looking forward to the inevitable discussion that was coming with Karen. He just hoped like hell he'd handle it better than he had with Katy. Why was it so effortless to make other women fall in love with him, and yet the one he wanted…

He settled on the _BZ Intro_ playlist. His mom was still asleep, so he closed his eyes and drifted off as he listened.


	28. It'll Take Away the Pain

**It'll Take Away the Pain**

Jim was awakened suddenly by a tapping on his knee. "Excuse me … excuse me." Emily, the nurse, stood beside him, motioning toward the wall near the head of his mom's bead. "I need to get by."

"Oh." Jim yanked his feet under him. He'd stretched out and entirely blocked the path beside the bed. "Sorry. Am I in your way?"

"No, you're fine" Emily said, even as she nearly bumped him with her hip. Jim remembered Pam's list. _If you feel like you're underfoot, you are._ He jumped up and moved to the foot of the bed. "Let me give you some space."

Emily gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks. That _is_ easier." She grabbed the blood pressure cuff from its receptacle on the wall and wrapped it around his mother's upper arm. She set up her stethoscope to listen and inflated the cuff. After noting the readings, the nurse typed them on the laptop.

As Emily folded the cuff and replaced it in the wall receptacle, Jim noticed that his mom was stirring. "She's waking up."

"Yeah. It'd be nice to not have to wake them up to do this but – Hi, Larissa!"

As Emily turned to Larissa, her voice shifted into the higher registers and singsongy rhythms that adults use when they speak to small children. "I need to take your temperature, Larissa. Can you turn your head, please?"

Larissa eyed the nurse warily as she complied with her request. "How does that thing work?" she asked skeptically.

"Hm? I'm sorry?"

"That thermometer _thing_ you're sticking in my ear. How does it work?"

"Oh. It shines an infrared light on the inside of your ear. Gooood. Ninety-nine point zero."

Jesus, she sounded like a kindergarten teacher. Like she would give his mom a happy face sticker for having a good temperature. Jim watched his mom to see if this treatment was irritating her but, no, she seemed to be unfazed.

"How's the pain, Larissa?"

"Not so good. I can't get comfortable and my stomach hurts."

Emily replied, still in that annoying singsong tone, "Well, that doesn't surprise me. You've certainly been through a lot these past few days, haven't you?" Jim fought the urge to reach up and just smack the nurse and tell her to speak to his mom like she was an adult.

Emily turned her attention to Jim, her voice normal again, "She's got a pretty long incision on her abdomen where they opened her up to find the source of her internal bleeding. And those multiple breaks on the arm and leg, they're pretty nasty. She's gonna be very uncomfortable for a while."

The nurse turned back to his mother. "Larissa, you just press this big red button if the pain gets to be too bad." How _did_ she just flip from one voice to another like that? It was annoying as hell.

Emily took the corded remote control and wrapped it around the bed rail, then laid it on the mattress, within reach of Larissa's good hand. As she headed out the door, she turned to Jim. "If she becomes uncomfortable, make sure you press the call bell. The orders are written so she can have morphine as needed."

"Got it. Thanks."

Jim returned to his seat by his mother's bedside. He pulled the chair closer to her and asked quietly, "How are you feeling, Mom?"

"Pretty beat up, to tell you the truth."

"Do you remember the accident?"

"I remember your dad clutching his chest and then we started to swerve around the road. And the car was doing doughnuts across all the lanes … like in slow motion. I was watching the trees spin around me and thinking it was miracle we weren't hitting any cars. Then the car flipped and … and I don't remember any more."

Larissa's eyes filled with tears. "Where's your dad, Jim? Is he ok? The nurse said he's upstairs but I can't go to see him." Larissa's voice dropped to a whisper, "Is he really alive?"

Wow. He hadn't anticipated that his mom might think his dad was _dead_ if she couldn't see him for herself. How much should he tell her? What could she handle?

"Um. Yeah. Ok, first of all, Dad is definitely alive, Mom." He took her hand in his and stroked it softly, watching her reaction. "He is alive. He's upstairs in the CCU. He had a, um, a heart attack and they did a triple bypass. Right now, they have him sedated; they said keeping him asleep will give his heart time to recover."

"Is he on a, a –" gesturing toward her mouth, Larissa struggled to find the word.

"A ventilator?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, he is."

Larissa let out a tiny "Oh" and turned away from her son, blinking hard as she cried silently, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jim struggled to find something positive … but honest … to say. "All the nurses tell me that dad's got some of the very best doctors in the hospital. They say these are the doctors they'd want if it was their dad."

"Oh. That's good." Larissa didn't sound convinced at all. Something suddenly occurred to her. "Where's Jon? Is he with your dad?"

"No, Mom. I haven't been able to reach Jon yet. He's on vacation with Tina, communications blackout and all, remember?"

Larissa looked stricken. "Your father's all alone up there. You have to go to him."

"Mom, Dad's asleep. He's fine. I need to be with you right now."

Larissa's voice became more urgent. "No! He can't be all alone. I can't stand the idea of him being all alone –" She hesitated a moment before voicing her fear. "I can't stand the idea that he might –_die_ up there – _all alone_."

"Mom. He's not … he's not going to die."

"How do you know that? Anything can happen."

"Mom, I promise you, he's not alone. I have someone with him. If anything happens, she'll come and get me. I promise."

Larissa frantically stroked Jim's hand and forearm, as if she could propel him out of the room. Her fingers caught on the band on his left hand. She lifted his hand and brought close to her face. "Oh my God. You _married_ her. I told your father not to confront you. I pleaded with him." Larissa strained to speak, her voice a breathy whisper. "This is a mistake, Jim. You and Karen don't make each other happy." Her energy spent, Larissa's head sank back onto the pillow as she waited, with eyes full of worry and grief, for Jim to respond.

He splayed his left hand on this thigh and his right index finger traced the outline of the band. He couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes as he admitted, "You're right. We don't make each other happy." His voice tapered off as if he was talking to himself. "Lately we mostly seem to make each other sad."

It was just like his mother to see it this way. Some mothers would've said _she doesn't make you happy_ or _she's not good for you_. But his mom saw Karen's sadness, too.

He realized his mother hadn't said anything. As he forced himself to meet her gaze, he saw that she was crying again. She looked like her heart was breaking for him.

"Then why?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd you marry her?"

"I … I didn't."

His mom's eyes were full of confusion. Shit. They hadn't discussed how they'd let his parents in on the ruse. Somehow, he didn't think either of them thought forward to the day that his parents woke up.

"Then who?"

"It's Pam."

"You married Pam? I thought you weren't even talking."

"We weren't. It's not – it's not what it seems."

Jim took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Ok. When I got the call from the hospital, I was still at the office. Everyone was gone but Pam. After I talked to the nurse, I was kind of freaking out about how I could handle all this," he gestured about the room "alone."

Jim paused. "And Pam, well she has a lot of experience in hospitals and she offered to come with me."

Larissa was still confused. "So you married her?"

"No. No. Nelani said only immediate family could stay in the CCU, so we decided to pretend we were married."

Larissa raised her eyebrows without a word, waiting.

"First, I suggested that she pretend to be my sister but she was afraid that they'd ask her to sign something, or make a decision if I wasn't around. So – so I asked if she could be my wife for a few days."

Larissa's eyes widened as she whispered, "Be your wife? For a few days?"

"Uh. Yeah. Just till Jon gets here. Then she'll go home."

"And Karen?"

"I couldn't, Mom. I just couldn't. You _have_ to understand why I couldn't bring her down here."

"No. I mean – she's ok with this … arrangement?"

"She – um – she doesn't exactly know."

"Exactly?"

"Ok. I haven't called her. She doesn't know. Any of it."

"Oh, Jim."

He couldn't decide if she looked sad for him or disappointed in him. Maybe both.

"You have to let that girl go, Jim. Soon. I hate to see what this is doing to you." Larissa motioned for Jim to lean in closer. She reached out to stroke his cheek and his hair. "I miss my cheery, optimistic son. You've had this melancholy for so long now. First Pam and now Karen. You … just …" Her voice trailed off as her hand dropped to grasp Jim's. "I worry about you."

Larissa winced and inhaled a sharp breath. Her brows furrowed and her whole body shuddered.

"Is the pain bad, Mom? I can call the nurse."

The color blanched from Larissa's face as she nodded her request. Jim jumped out of his chair and rushed to the hallway to look for Emily. He found her taking care of another patient three doors down and waited outside the door, just out of sight, so she wouldn't think he was rushing her.

Emily emerged from the room, rubbing antiseptic foam over her hands. "Yes?"

"It's my mom. Her pain is really bad all of a sudden. She's asking for a shot."

"Ok. I'll be over in a few minutes."

Jim returned to find his mother grimacing in pain, her brow deeply furrowed, her lips tightly pursed and her head pitched back into the pillow. Wholly focused on the pain, she didn't even seem to notice that he had entered the room.

Fleeting images of childhood injuries flashed through Jim's mind, trips to the hospital with broken bones and cuts that required stitches. His dad drove and his mom sat in the back seat with her son. Always, always, Larissa Halpert held her child's hand all the way to the hospital. "Squeeze, Jimmy. Squeeze hard. It'll take away the pain. I'm here for you."

Jim took his mother's good hand and wrapped it around his own. "Squeeze, Mom. Squeeze hard. It'll take away the pain." His voice choked as he added, "I'm here for you."

Larissa smiled feebly at the shared memory. And she did squeeze. Holy hell, he had _no _idea she was this strong. She was crushing his hand; he could feel the bones shifting in his palm. Where was Emily?

"That's good, Mom. Keep squeezing. Is it helping?"

Larissa nodded silently with her eyes shut tight as she bit her lower lip. A tear escaped and rolled slowly down her cheek. It was so frustrating to be unable to do anything more useful than allowing his mom to squeeze the hell out of his hand. Nothing he could do would actually lessen her pain. He watched the second hand sweep over the face of the clock on the wall. One minute. Two. Three. Where _was_ that nurse?

Just as Jim was about to go back to the hall to find her, Emily returned. "Hi, Larissa. I hear you're not feeling very good."

Larissa barely opened her eyes and shook her head. "No. Not good. At all. It hurts."

"Larissa, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?" As Larissa struggled to form an answer, Emily adeptly inserted the tiny needle into the IV tube that dangled from Larissa's arm.

"A sev-, seven, I guess. But it never goes away. It hurts all ov-" Suddenly Larissa's whole countenance changed. She was awash with relief. Not just her face, but her whole body, instantly relaxed: her shoulders, arms, neck, even her breathing.

Jim glanced at Emily in surprise.

"Yep. The beauty of IV narcotics: instantaneous results. It's the reason addicts mainline the stuff. Pretty impressive, huh?"

"You're not kidding."

As Emily headed out into the hallway, she called over her shoulder, "And Jim? Next time, just hit the call button."

"Oh, yeah. Totally forgot about that." He picked up the corded remote and looked at the oversized red button with the white nurse's hat stamped on it. "Right here. Thanks, Emily."

But she was already gone. Jim returned his attention to his mother. "Hey. Mom."

Larissa slowly turned her gaze toward him. She looked euphoric.

"How're you feeling?"

Larissa sighed happily. "So much better." Her smile was full of bliss and contentment as she drifted off to sleep. Jim watched her doze for a while and decided it would be Ok for him to take a break and stretch his legs. Maybe Pam would like to go downstairs for a cup of coffee. He'd have to see if Emily would like something…


	29. Rings

_Thanks to **The Imaginiteer** for the beta review! Good input!_

* * *

**Rings**

Pam's voice greeted Jim as he approached his father's room. He hesitated and cocked his head toward the door. She was talking nonstop, her voice animated and cheery as if she was telling a story. Did his father wake up? No, surely she'd have told him _that_, so that couldn't be it. He paused near the doorway to listen. Of all of her personas, story-telling Pam was one of Jim's favorites. He loved it when she got excited about – well, anything. The beginnings of a smile played on his lips. He could listen to her like this for hours.

Jim peeked around the door into the room and broke into a delighted grin. There was Pam, shoes kicked off, feet propped on the large rails beneath his father's mattress, knees raised up, with a book resting on her thighs. She was reading aloud – assuming a different voice for every character – totally engrossed in the story.

Leaning against the door frame, Jim crossed his arms and ankles, settling in to watch the show, confident that he'd have at least a few minutes before she'd notice him.

_And so Mort came at last to the river Ankh, greatest of rivers. Even before it entered the city it was slow and heavy with the silt of the plains, and by the time it got to The Shades even an agnostic could have walked across it. It was hard to drown in the Ankh, but easy to suffocate._

_Mort looked at the surface doubtfully. It seemed to be moving. There were bubbles in it. It had to be water._

_He sighed, and turned away._

_Three men had appeared behind him, as though extruded from the stonework. They had the heavy, stolid look of those thugs whose appearance in any narrative means that it's time for the hero to be menaced a bit, although not too much, because it's also obvious that they're going to be horribly surprised._

_They were leering. They were good at it._

_One of them had drawn a knife, which he waved in little circles in the air. _

As Pam read the words, her right hand circled in the air and she contorted her face into what was apparently supposed to be a menacing look.

_He advanced slowly towards Mort, while the other two hung back to provide immoral support._

"_Give us the money," he rasped._

_Mort's hand went to the bag on his belt._

"_Hang on a minute," he said. "What happens then?"_

Jim swallowed a laugh; she sounded positively shocked and indignant. She was surprisingly good at this.

"_What?"_

"_I mean, is it my money or my life?" said Mort. "That's the sort of thing robbers are supposed to demand. Your money or your life. I read that in a book once," he added._

"_Possibly, possibly," conceded the robber. He felt he was losing the initiative, but rallied magnificently. "On the other hand, it could be your money __and__ your life. Pulling off the double, you might say." The man looked sideways at his colleagues, who sniggered on cue._

Jim hid his grin behind his hand. This was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. Seriously. Pregnant pauses, changes of accent, dramatic narration. He wished he had a video camera with him so that he'd never forget her performance. And it was an image he'd love to show his father, so he could _see_ how Pam had cared for him – even before he'd ever consciously met her.

"_In that case –" said Mort, and he hefted the bag in one hand preparatory to chucking it as far out into the Ankh as he could, even though there was a reasonable chance it would bounce._

"_Hey, what are you doing," said the robber. He started to run forward, but halted when Mort gave the bag a threatening jerk._

"_Well," said Mort, "I look at it like this. If you're going to kill me anyway, I might as well get rid of the money. It's entirely up to you." To illustrate his point he took one coin out of the bag and flicked it out across the water, which accepted it with an unfortunate sucking noise. The thieves shuddered._

"_The leading thief looked at the bag. He looked at his knife. He looked at Mort's face. He looked at his colleagues._

"_Excuse me," he said, and they went into a huddle._

_Mort measured the distance to the end of the alley. He wouldn't make it. Anyway, these three looked as though chasing people was another thing they were good at. It was only logic that left them feeling a little stretched._

"Ok. Break time for a minute." Pam set the book face down on Jim's father's lap and took a long draw from the glass of water that had been sitting on the tray table. She took his left hand between hers and rubbed it lightly. Suddenly she broke into a grin.

"Mr. Halpert! You're warmer than you were yesterday! You _definitely_ are!"

So like Pam. She was warm and affectionate and supportive – of a man she'd never even met before. Here she was, cheering his dad on as if he'd performed a Schrute-like feat and raised his body temperature from sheer willpower.

"I am _loving_ this book, Mr. Halpert. I can see why you're a Terry Pratchett fan. _And_ I can see where Jim gets his sense of humor." She paused, "I hope I get a chance to really talk with you someday. I'd like that." She bit her lower lip and tucked her hair nervously behind her ear before adding in a wistful whisper, "I wonder if you'd like me."

Jim's heart ached just a little for her as Pam stood silently, letting the comment hang in the air. She was totally sincere. It was hard to believe she could be that unsure of herself. How could she _possibly_ think his dad – anyone, really – wouldn't just love her?

"So, let's get back to that book, huh?"

Just as Pam settled into her position, feet propped, legs bent, book propped, a nurse bustled past Jim. He didn't recognize her but he definitely recognized the routine as she emptied the urine collection bag. Full bag, good sign.

As the nurse left the room, she stopped in the doorway for the obligatory pump of antiseptic foam. Pam glanced in her direction to say thanks and was startled to see Jim in the doorway. Her eyes widened and crinkled with a warm smile. "Hey! What a nice surprise. I didn't expect to see you for a few more hours. What are you doing up here?"

"Oh, I just stopped by to see if I could take my wife to lunch. I hear there's a really great place right in this very building. I think it's called The Center Café – you ever heard of it?"

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of it. Definitely." Pam raised her eyebrow, a sardonic glimmer in her eye. "And I'd love to have lunch with my husband. Thought he'd never ask."

Turning to Jim's father, Pam patted his hand gently. "Mr. Halpert, Jim and I are going to grab a bite to eat. I'll be back in a little while to continue our story."

Jim and Pam set their trays down at a table in a deserted corner of the cafeteria. Neither acknowledged that the surrounding sea of unoccupied tables made it perfectly suited for continuing their flirtatious banter.

"So, Pam, I really like this – what did you call it? Bridal set?" Jim took Pam's left hand and made a show of examining it. "_It suits you perfectly_," he added with a flourish.

"Well, _yeah_." Pam poked Jim playfully. "I _bought_ it, so I guess it would!"

"I know I wasn't exactly objective, but I never liked the ring Roy gave you."

"To tell you the truth, I didn't either. You know when Roy proposed to me – well, he never _did_ propose, actually. One weekend we were at his parents' for a barbecue and every one started bugging us about when were we going to tie the knot. And Roy turned to me and said, "Yeah, let's do it." When I asked if he really meant it, he said, "Yeah. Sure."

Pam paused while she spun her bridal set around her finger. "I was actually excited with that – _Yeah, let's do it_ – can you _believe_ it? I told all my friends that Roy and I were getting married. After a few months, everyone started to wonder where was my ring. And I started asking Roy. Then, after a few more months, it became more like nagging. He came up with one lame excuse after another for not buying it. Took him _months_ to get around to it."

The whole time Pam spoke, she hung her head low and stared down at her hands. "So he took me out for Valentine's Day to Fratelli's. And when we got our dessert, he had the waiter put the ring on the plate next to my dessert. I was shocked when I saw it, really. I thought _This doesn't even look like me. How could you pick this out?_ And _that_ made me feel like a bitch. I couldn't even look at him at first 'cause I just didn't know what to say. And then –"

Pam paused while she drew a surprised sounding breath. "And _then_ he said, 'You are gonna be so proud of me. I got a _great_ deal at a jewelry store that went out of business.' He really thought I'd be proud of him for getting my wedding set on the cheap. Well, I didn't like it and I couldn't believe he decided to be thrifty with my _engagement ring_ – but he couldn't return it, so I figured why say anything?" Pam shook her head in disbelief at the memory. "I was so stupid. I should've known right then."

Jim squeezed Pam's hand. "Yeah. I remember."

Pam's head shot up. "What?"

Jim smiled ruefully. "Um. Yeah. You told me about that."

"I _told_ you about that? No way." Pam again began to study her lap. "I was so embarrassed that I never told _anyone_."

"Yeah. You told me that, too." Jim reached over and took Pam's hand in his, lightly thumbing her palm. "You really don't remember? Ok, one time we all went out to Poor Richards after work. It was a Friday night, a few months after I started, and Roy was off playing poker or something. You had a few too many beers – no, a _lot_ too many beers. It was the first time you admitted things weren't perfect with Roy. You just sounded so damn disappointed. It kinda broke my heart to see how let down you were about the whole thing. I decided then and there that if I ever propose to a girl, I'm gonna have a beautiful ring in my pocket and it's gonna be kick ass romantic. I want it to be one of the happiest moments of her life, you know?"

Pam looked down at the floor as she smiled sadly and rubbed Jim's band with her thumb. "I'm sure someday your proposal will be perfect."

Whoa, what had happened to the festive, flirty mood? Jim cocked his shoulder and held his hand in front of him in an exaggerated pose like a young woman showing off her ring. "And I just _love_ this ring you picked for me, too. It's _so_ me."

Pam laughed at his dead-on Kelly impersonation. He had no idea. As soon as she'd seen it, she knew it was the ring she'd buy for him. As if her fingers had needs of their own, she reached over and stroked the ring again. "Yeah, it's classy and graceful – like you." Oh shit! Did she just say that? Out loud?

Jim huffed softly, tossing his head back just a little. "_I'm_ classy? And _graceful_?"

For a fleeting moment, Pam sorted images in her mind. Jim charging on the basketball court. Jim gliding on the ice. Jim casually leaning in a doorway, all easy elegance. Jim moving smoothly, self-confidently as he executed a prank on Dwight. Classy and graceful were definitely the words that came to mind – well, maybe not the _first_ words that came to mind. Well, anyway, no way to back out now.

"Yep. Definitely."

Jim nodded his head in mock appreciation. "Classy _and_ graceful. Well, ok." This wasn't a turn of conversation he'd anticipated. To tell the truth, it was a little awkward. He had no idea how to respond to the compliment and Pam was looking like she'd swallowed a mouse. Stalling while he tried to think of some way to re-route the conversation, he started to pull the band off to examine it more closely.

Shit! The inscription!

"No! Don't take it off!"

Jim lifted his eyes from the ring to look quizzically at Pam.

"I, um, I – Yeah, that seems weird, I guess. Just – can you please not take it off? I can't really explain why. I'd just rather you didn't. Please?"

"Oooh-kaay. Sure."

She was right. That _was_ weird. Oh, Christ. The color blanched from Jim's face as he pointed at the band on his left hand. "This isn't –?" He couldn't even bring himself to finish the question.

"Oh my God, no! I'd _never_ –"

Jim breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Oh. Ok. Good."

Jim turned his hand over, lips drawn tight, as he looked at it closely. Shit, he was not buying this. If anything, he looked really suspicious. She had to think of something, some plausible reason why she'd asked him not to take it off. Because right now he looked like he wanted visual confirmation that _RJA 6-10-2006_ wasn't engraved on the inside of that ring. And, while he wouldn't find that type of incriminating evidence, the nine words he _would_ see –

"Ok, ok. Here's the thing. I loved the style of that ring, with the black bands around the middle. But it's like stainless steel or something. I was afraid that you'd find your finger's turning green under there." The words came out in a rush as she desperately tried to keep him from – Please God, no. Jim slipped the band down over his knuckle and examined his finger.

"Nope. No green." He grinned as he pushed the ring back into place.

Thank God. Maybe now, if he ever did take it off, he'd be so focused on checking for green skin that he wouldn't notice the Celtic styled lettering on the inside.

"Besides – his ring would never fit you." Pam took Jim's left hand in hers and traced his fingers. "Your hands are long and thin. It would've been way too big."

"You know – this does fit me perfectly." He flexed his fingers. "It feels great. How'd you know what size to buy?"

Pam felt her face flush hot as she forced a quiet laugh. "I'm an artist, Jim. I'm observant."

This entire conversation was making her uncomfortable. She definitely needed a change of subject. "So, you think we should share notes before we head back upstairs? We haven't talked at all about your folks."

"I don't have any notes. Mom hasn't had any doctor visits since we've been on the third floor. The nurse really gets on my nerves, though. She talks to mom like she's in kindergarten or something. Mom doesn't mind as much as I do, though. She's sleeping most of the day because of the pain meds they're giving her."

"Well, even if you have no news, I have _lots_ of good news! I had a good visit with the cardiologist. He says they'll probably extubate your dad tomorrow."

"Wow. That would be outstanding."

"Yep. That's what I said. One of them will stop by this afternoon and I'll find out more then. _And_ they think they can remove the drainage tube from his lung _today_. So by tomorrow, we might be down to just IV tubes."

Jim sat very still, eyes wide, head nodding slightly.

Pam took his hand between hers and squeezed it lightly. "Hey, you ok?"

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Just trying to process all this. He'll wake up after they take the tube out, won't he?"

"Actually, I think they'll take him off the sedation before they remove the tube. If I remember right, he has to be awake for that."

"You're kidding me! He'll be awake with that giant tube down his throat?" Jim shook his head silently, his hand unconsciously drifting to his throat. "Holy shit. That sounds pretty terrifying."

"Yeah, it is. You know, I was thinking you should go to the CCU tomorrow morning so you can be with your dad when he wakes up."

"That's _exactly_ what I was going to say. How do you keep _doing_ that?"

Jim glanced down at his watch. "Holy crap! It's been over an hour. We should get back. You want to meet this afternoon for a cup of coffee?"

"Sure. Come pick me up again?"

"Yep. It's a date."

* * *

_So dear readers ... Penny for your thoughts ..._


	30. Madness

_Um ... I'll just say that the parts of this chapter that you will probably think are the most unbelievable are the ones that were lifted almost directly from real life._

* * *

**Madness**

"Look at that," his mother ordered sharply.

"At what?" Jim tried to follow her gaze.

"Look!"

Jim cocked his head, trying to align his face and eyes with his mother's. She was intently scrutinizing something outside the window. But, look as he might, Jim couldn't find a damn thing that seemed out of the ordinary. It was a crisp winter day – one of those days with clear air and harsh sunlight. The brick buildings of the medical complex nearly glowed against the stark blue of a nearly cloudless sky. No people, no animals, no movement. What did she see out there?

Jim looked back at his mother. She stared, transfixed, out the window. "It looks so real."

Puzzled, Jim again followed his mother's gaze out the window. "What looks so real?"

"All of it. That smoke. The windows. Those trees in the distance."

"Um … what do you think that stuff _is_, Mom?"

"Oh, it's a painting. You'd never know it, would you? Look at how that smoke moves. How do they _do_ it?"

Her energy spent, Larissa lay back against the pillow. Jim looked out the window. Off in the distance, there _was_ a chimney billowing white smoke into the brilliant blue sky. He'd never have noticed it if she hadn't pointed it out. Suddenly, Jim became aware that his mother was speaking again.

"– not a _perfect_ job, though. There should be some clouds. But what they _did_ all looks _very_ real." Larissa turned toward her son and spoke in a tone of grudging admiration. "They're _very_ good."

"Who are _they_, Mom?"

Larissa scanned the room and motioned for Jim to come closer. She whispered urgently in his ear, "The breeders."

Jim studied his mother's expression, panic rising from his gut. He'd never, _ever_ heard her talk like this before. Did all those doctors somehow miss that she had a head injury? Her head didn't look all that different. Sure, she had bruises and cuts. But there was no seeing what was going on _inside_ her brain, was there? Ok, just remain calm.

Jim cocked an eyebrow at his mother. "The breeders?"

"Yes, Jim," she said impatiently "the baby breeders. That's why they're keeping me here. For blood for the babies."

Jim stared at his mother, speechless. What could he even say to that?

"You've seen all those little vials they fill with my blood. They're for the babies – they make them in the basement." Larissa paused and tilted her head sideways toward her sleeping roommate, adding in a loud whisper, "That's where they keep taking _her_. To the basement."

"They're using your roommate to make babies?"

Larissa nodded solemnly. "Absolutely. I'm sure of it."

"Um … how do you know this, Mom?"

"Jim. Really?"

Jim waited.

"Haven't you watched them over there? Every time a doctor talks to her, they prod her belly, listen to it with a stethoscope. They've taken her to the basement twice already today." Larissa paused, eyes wide. "She must be very fast."

Larissa raised her eyebrow expectantly. Jim honestly couldn't think of a single sensible thing to say. He covered his mouth with his hand, blowing into his palm. Thank God. The conversation – brief as it was – had left his mother drained and she drifted off to sleep. He watched her breathe as he listened to the second hand clicking on the wall.

Jim hardly knew how to process this conversation. He'd never heard anyone talk like this. Well, Dwight came close, but that was different. Should he try to talk reason to her, or agree with her? What would Pam do? He smiled wryly to himself, envisioning a WWPD lapel pin. He sighed loudly. Shit, he wished she was here instead of two floors up and somewhere on the other side of the hospital.

Larissa began to moan, her eyebrows furrowed deeply. "God, I hurt, Jim. The pain just … won't go away. Help me."

"Do you want me to call the nurse to give you a shot?"

Larissa nodded silently.

Again, Jim watched relief wash over his mother's face immediately after the nurse inserted the tiny needle into the IV tube that dangled from her arm. But, a few minutes later as she was drifting into unconsciousness, Larissa took Jim's hand in hers and spoke urgently. "You've gotta get me out of here, Jim. They're gonna keep taking those little vials of my blood until it's all gone. You've gotta get me …"

And then she was out.

Jim watched her for a few minutes. No way he was leaving this room unless he was certain that she'd be calm and asleep for a while. His mom had to have some kind of head injury that the doctors had missed. What else could explain these weird delusions? His mom had never exhibited any psychotic tendencies before.

He really wanted to talk with Pam – he was starting to have doubts again about the quality of the care his parents were receiving in this hospital and he didn't know what to do about it. He had no idea how to navigate this medical morass and, while he was sure Pam had never experienced shockingly bad care like this, she'd have some idea what might be the right thing to do.

After about twenty minutes, when he was confident that his mother was in a deep sleep, Jim set off to find Pam. He took an elevator to the fifth floor but, when the doors opened, nothing in the corridor before him looked familiar. There was a waiting area with neatly aligned upholstered armchairs, but he was sure they were a different color than the ones near the cardiac care unit.

Jim did a slow 360 degree turn, scanning the hallways in all directions. Eventually, every one of them ended in a set of double-doors – some close, others further away. Each corridor had signposts hanging from the ceiling, but none of them signified anything to Jim. He was totally turned around with no idea which direction to walk.

The shortest corridor was to Jim's right. He headed that way and walked briskly through the double doors. He continued down the passageway, surreptitiously glancing into patients' rooms, until he reached the nurses' station. He waited until the nurse at the desk looked up.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me which way to go for the CCU?"

"CCU? Oh, sure. Go down that hallway," she pointed back in the direction from whence Jim had come, "and go all the way past the elevators. Head down the long hallway and go through the first set of double doors. Continue on down and turn left into the next corridor. After you go a few hundred feet, you'll come to some elevators that have the colored paths set in the floor. Follow the red path and it'll take you right there."

As the nurse rattled off the directions, Jim was feeling frankly a bit overwhelmed. He repeated the directions back to her, counting each landmark or turn on his fingers. When he was fairly certain he had it right, he set off again for the CCU.

Jim worked his way through the corridors of the hospital, trying to decide what they could do about the poor care his mother was receiving. If the doctors were missing a head injury like she had, what else might they be missing about either of his parents' conditions? This was really, really bad. Who could he complain to? The doctors would probably all just stick together, right? And then, if he ticked them off, his mom and dad might receive even _worse_ care. He couldn't very well have them moved back home to Scranton. The whole thing scared the shit out of Jim; he'd never felt so wholly unprepared to deal with anything in his life. And where the hell was Jon? It was just _not_ right that Jim had to figure this out all by himself.

Jim finally reached the CCU and rushed into his father's room, only to find his father alone. Still unconscious, still on the ventilator, drainage tube still protruding from beneath his hospital gown. Jim felt the air just sucked from his lungs, as it had every time he'd walked into this room. He forced himself to approach his father's side and take his cold hand into his own. "Hi again, Dad." He laughed wryly. "Pam didn't happen to tell you where she was headed, did she? No? Didn't think so. I think I'll ask at the nurse's station."

But the nurses didn't have any idea where Pam was, either. So she probably hadn't gone to the cafeteria; she'd surely have taken coffee orders. She really could be just about anywhere in the hospital. Gift shop, chapel, bathroom, taking a quick lap to stretch her legs. He couldn't try to hunt her down. He only had a few minutes before he should head back to his mom's room.

Jim pulled out his cell phone and dialed Pam's number. Just as the ringing began in his ear, he heard Bill Withers' voice.

_Lean on me, when you're not strong_  
_And I'll be your friend_  
_I'll help you carry on_

Damn. She'd left her cell phone in the room. As the music continued, Jim followed the sound. There was the phone, lying next to Mort on the table by the bed. Jim absently picked up the phone in his left hand and sank into the chair, staring at the two phones in his hands.

_If there is a load you have to bear_  
_That you can't carry_

He pressed the END button. Damn. When he'd started to sleep with Karen, he'd actually deleted Pam from his contacts list. He'd forced himself to do it one night when he was still giving himself the _I'm moving on_ pep talks. He'd never told Karen that they'd been friends and he really didn't want to make up some reason for having her number. Besides, it wasn't as if he'd ever need caller ID to recognize her number – he'd stared at it at least a hundred times in Stamford, debating whether to press SEND or END.

Jim pressed SEND again and listened to Bill Withers while he let his mind drift back in time. He and Pam had been sitting alone in the break room when she suddenly leaned into him and whispered, "I got the coolest software for my cell phone! We can play _such_ a great prank on Dwight with this stuff!"

Jim had positively tingled with excitement. Usually he was the one to mastermind their pranks on Dwight. He always felt a huge rush when Pam was the creative genius behind their shenanigans. He'd rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "You've come up with a way for us to mess with Dwight's cell phone? Tell me – now!"

He remembered laughing warmly at Pam's enthusiasm as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She was abuzz with glee and it was infectious. "OK. It's called Ring Tone Maker and you can take any part of any song and make it into a ring tone. Can you see the possibilities? We make the ringtones, we get Dwight to forget his cell phone at work just one night – and we're set!"

"Oh my God. You could go in so many directions with this. Have you tried it out yet?"

"Oh, yeah! I set a bunch of ring tones for myself already. Listen. This is Roy's." Just as Jim could feel the hackles beginning to rise on his neck, he heard The Village People.

_Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey!_  
_Macho, macho man (macho man)_  
_I've got to __be a__ macho man_

Wow. For Roy's ring tone she'd chosen an ironic song about masculinity performed by a bunch of gay guys singing in costume?

Pam blithely continued. "It's goofy but it reminds me of him. And here's my mom's."

_But I would not give you false hope_  
_On this strange and mournful day_  
_When the mother and child reunion_  
_Is only a motion away._

"And wait! Here's my brother's."

_Treat him well, he is your brother_  
_You might need his help one day_  
_We depend on one another_  
_Love him, that's the only way_

He didn't recognize the song but anybody would know those four voices.

"ABBA? Seriously? Pam? Are you kidding me? If I was your brother, I'd divorce you!"

"Hey! I like ABBA."

"And the Village People and Paul Simon? Do you even listen to any music that was recorded after you were born, Pam?"

"So I like oldies. They're good."

"Um. No. I have to beg to differ. Your musical choices are questionable at best, Beesly. I am gonna _have_ to expose you to some good music. This just will not do."

"Fine! You find me some new stuff that I like and I'll listen to it!"

"Gladly. I accept your challenge."

He remembered that it took a few minutes to summon the courage to ask his next question. "OK. With great trepidation, Pam, I have to ask. Did you set a ring tone for me? Should I cringe inside every time I call, knowing that Casey Kasem should be announcing the song that's playing on your phone?"

Pam had flushed slightly and Jim thought he heard a touch of bravado in her voice as she replied, "Of course I did. And _I_ don't think it's cringe worthy."

"Well?"

Pam had just smiled, enigmatic and shy.

"Fine then." Jim had pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, quickly dialed her number and braced himself, waiting for some ridiculous song.

_Lean on me, when you're not strong_

Pam's pink cheeks deepened to a warm rose. "I think of you every time I hear that song. It just – It's just you, you know?" She let the song play out.

_For it won't be long_  
_'Til I'm gonna need_  
_Somebody to lean on_  
_If there is a load you have to bear_  
_That you can't carry_  
_I'm right up the road_  
_I'll share your load_  
_If you just call me_  
_Call me (if you need a friend)_  
_Call me (call me)_  
_Call me_

Jim leaned back in the chair, smiling as he closed his eyes. He associated so many great memories with that day. They'd stayed late at work for the better part of a week, creating Dwight's perfect ring tone list. _The Bitch is Back_ for Angela – because Pam was _convinced_ they had something going on. _I Like Him_ from The Man of La Mancha for Michael. He let her choose most of the songs. He really couldn't remember what all she picked. And it didn't even matter that they didn't get to see the prank play out since Dwight didn't get the calls at work. They had four absolutely perfect evenings together, as far as Jim was concerned.

That day was the birth of the BZ Intro playlist, too. And _that_ was fun that went on for two years. He'd loved introducing Pam to new bands. Some she loved and others, not so much. But he could tell how much Pam enjoyed that he was sharing this part of himself with her. She never said it outright, but he could see it in her eyes.

But the biggest rush of the whole thing was the ring tone that she'd chosen for him. It made Jim ridiculously, absurdly delighted that "Macho Man" reminded Pam of Roy, while she thought of _him_ every time she heard "Lean on Me." He got off on that for weeks. It was the first time he'd ever thought, "Maybe…"

And thinking about it now – that, even after all this time and how awful he'd been to her lately – she kept him in her contacts, kept the same sentimental ring tone … well, he couldn't help but think, "Maybe…" And the ironic thing was that the tables had totally turned. Now he was leaning on Pam for support – she was the strong one sharing his load.

Jim glanced at the clock on the wall. Hardly five minutes had passed since he arrived at his father's room. Nothing had changed. He still was concerned about the care his parents were receiving, still freaked out about his mother's addled mind. But he felt like, between the two of them, he and Pam would figure out what to do. Once he found her, of course. For now, he'd better head back to his mom's room and make sure she was ok.

As he made his way through the corridors back to 3 West, Jim flipped open his phone and hit the SEND button. He selected OPTIONS and added Pam's number back to his contacts list. And before he could change his mind, he reset her ring tone back to the song he'd chosen two years earlier.


	31. Jim&TheTerrible,Horrible,NoGood,VeryBad

**Jim and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day**

As he walked down the corridor of 3 West, Jim heard shouting – feral, animalistic, raw and hoarse. His pace quickened as he recognized the voice. "I'll have him kill you! I will! He's in the CIA – he knows how. You can't keep me here like this! Ow! You're hurting me. Stop it!"

Jim rushed down the hall only to stop dead at the door to his mother's room. Two nurses were pinning his mother to the bed. A young phlebotomist stood crying in the corner. Her cart was overturned and vials of blood were strewn over his mom's side of the room. Shards of glass and pools of blood littered the floor. His mother's roommate had shrunk to the far side of her bed, watching, wide-eyed and fearful.

A nurse glanced up and saw Jim staring from the doorway. "You can't visit right now. You need to leave till we get this under control." she barked as she briskly drew the curtain around the bed.

Bullshit! Was she crazy? He wasn't going anywhere while a team of nurses tackled his crippled mother in her hospital bed. Forcing his way behind the curtain to confront them would be a terrible idea, so he approached his mother's roommate. "She was asleep when I left half an hour ago. What the hell happened?" he whispered as he jerked his head toward the curtained bed.

Larissa's roommate spoke in an equally hushed tone. "That girl" she said, pointing to the phlebotomist, "came to take a blood sample and your mom said _Like hell you're taking any more of my blood_. And then she knocked the cart over and ripped out her IV. When she tried to hit the girl, the nurses came running."

Jim's heart plummeted right down to his stomach as he surveyed the chaos on the other side of the room. Shit! This was all his fault. He should never have left. If he'd stayed with his mom instead of looking for Pam, this wouldn't have happened.

Jim heard a ringing from inside the curtain. "Dr. Green? Yes, I paged you. This is Jessica Cameron. I'm on 3 West with Larissa Halpert. She's very agitated. She pulled her IV, attacked the phleb and is trying to get out of the bed.

"About an hour ago. Twenty minutes ago."

What was she talking about? Jim tried to remember what happened an hour ago. He was still here then, he should remember. She didn't do _anything_ unusual an hour ago. At least he didn't think so.

"No, no indications before that."

Well, actually, there _were_ indications. He should've talked to the nurses about how weird his mom was being instead of going to talk to Pam. Jim rifled his hands through his hair in frustration. How could he be so stupid? He didn't have the sense God gave a tomato.

"Yes. Her son."

"And I'll have him kill you all!"

Fuck. She was starting in on the CIA thing again.

"You heard right. Yes. Vials of blood everywhere. Yes. Oxycodone. Yes. Five milligrams every six hours. Right. Thank you.

"Ok, you stay with her for a few minutes while I look for her son."

The nurse who'd told Jim to leave stepped out from the curtain and stopped before the phlebotomist. "Are you all right?"

The girl nodded, silent and unconvincing. She looked petrified. Jim was sure she was scared of losing her job. "I'll bet you'll never park your cart within arm's reach of a patient again, will you?"

The girl shook her head no, still silent but grimly resolute.

"Well, you'd better head downstairs to get a new cart. These aren't usable for the lab. You'll need to take your orders and have another phleb help you. Some of those samples were time critical. Get them done first." The nurse gave the girl a light squeeze on the shoulder. "Go on. It'll be ok."

Jesus. He hadn't even thought of that when he saw the broken vials strewn all over the floor. His mistake might screw up other people's treatment, too? Fucking great, this was just fucking great.

As the pair headed toward the door, the nurse turned her attention to Jim. "Can I see you for a minute? Outside?"

Jim numbly followed the nurse into the corridor. When they were a few feet from his mother's door, the nurse turned to face him.

"First of all, I want you to know that no one was hurting your mother."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Shit. He didn't mean to sound so sarcastic.

The nurse reared back defensively. "Yes, really. We needed to subdue her before she injured any of her surgical sites."

Well, that was certainly true. The realization calmed Jim's nerves a little bit. Not much, but a little.

"What's wrong with her?" Jim gave voice to the idea that was terrifying him most. "Does she have a brain injury or something?"

"No. Your mother is suffering from delusions from the morphine."

"Then why are you giving it to her?" Damn. He really had to rein in that caustic tone.

"We didn't _know_ she was delusional until she attacked the phleb 20 minutes ago," the nurse said in a tone that bordered on combative.

Oh yeah, that was right. _He_ was the only one who had an inkling that his mom was off. And he didn't tell the nurses. "You're right. I'm sorry." Jim made sure that he sounded sincere and contrite. "It's just, well, it's hard to know how to react when you see two nurses pinning your screaming mom to her bed." He slumped against the wall, running his hand through his hair.

The nurse's icy disposition melted and her tone, too, became more conciliatory. "It's ok. Sometimes we forget how shocking this is for the family."

"You mean you see this often?"

"Oh, yeah. All the time."

Jim's eyes widened in surprise. "Then why do you use the stuff?"

"The narcotics? Because no one has invented a drug that manages the pain as effectively without any risk of the side effects. Not everyone has them, you know. And, when they do appear, we switch the patient to a drug with a shorter half life." In response to Jim's puzzled expression she added, "It gets out of their systems faster, so there's less risk of the side effects."

"That's what you were talking to the doctor about? You're putting her on Oxycontin now?"

The nurse laughed. "Oh, no. Not Oxycontin. That's about as bad as morphine. We're putting her on Oxycodone and we'll monitor her to see how she does."

"So, how long will this last?"

"Probably at least another four hours. Maybe longer. Most patients start to come out of it as soon as the drug is out of their system. Others can take a few days; in elderly patients it can take over a week. Your mom had her last shot about an hour ago. The morphine should be all out of her system within five or six hours. She's not that old and she was in good health before the accident. She might start to clear up a bit before then."

Jim sucked in a deep breath. "Man, I hope so. I don't think I can take _days_ of this."

The nurse looked at him evenly. "That's what I wanted to ask you about. Had you noticed any signs of odd behavior today?"

Jim flushed to his ears. "Um. Well. Actually, yes. She was telling me about the baby factory the hospital has going in the basement. She thinks they're going to take all of her blood for the babies. I thought maybe she had a head injury or something. I was trying to find my um, my wife to talk to her about it when the girl came to take the blood."

The nurse nodded. "Ok, here's the thing. We're kinda short-staffed right now. One nurse called in sick with the flu and another one left early because she was sick. We can't restrain a patient without the doctor's orders and Dr. Greene wants to see how she does with the Oxycodone. Were you planning to spend the day with your mother?" She continued as Jim nodded yes. "Great! If you can stay with her and make sure she doesn't get out of bed that would be _really_ good."

* * *

"You aren't helping me at all. Just get the hell out!"

Jim's heart was racing. He'd tried everything he could think of: cajoling, reasoning, pleading, changing the subject, even arguing – even though the nurse had expressly warned him not to upset his mother. He'd moved the night stand flush against one side of the bed, a foot or so below the arm rail. That way he only had to block one side when his mother tried to climb out of the bed. He felt exhausted, frantic, bewildered. He had no idea where this vulgar, venomous – well, _bitch_ was the only word that came to mind – had come from. There was no similarity between her and the sweet, funny, gracious woman he grew up with. With her constant, surly scowl, she didn't even look like his mom. And she said things he couldn't imagine his mother even _thinking_ – he just hoped to God that none of it was true.

"Mom, I can't go. The nurse told you that I have to stay here. She wants me to make sure you don't get hurt."

"Bullshit. What do _you_ care what happens to me?"

Jim felt like he'd been slapped. Again. How could she keep saying this shit to him? He wearily stood to approach his mother's bed. "Mom, I –"

Suddenly he felt a buzzing in his pants pocket as he heard quiet singing. "You are so –" _Shit! Not now._ Jim shoved his hand into his pocket and pressed the QUIET button on his phone.

"What was that?" Larissa demanded as her eyes darted about the room.

"What was what? Hey, Mom, I have to go to the bathroom for just a minute. I'll be right back." Before the phone could ring again, Jim hurried out the door. He stopped a few feet into the hallway and cocked his ear toward the door. If he stood here, he could still hear his mom while he called Pam back.

Jim pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at it. Hard to believe that only a few hours ago he'd been so anxious to talk to Pam about his mom. Now he didn't want to talk to her at all. Didn't want to talk to anyone, in fact.

As he stared at the phone, it began to ring softly in his hands.

_You are so beautiful to me.  
Can't you see?  
You're everything I hoped for,  
Everything I need.  
You are –_

He pressed the TALK button. "Hey, Pam."

"Hey. I was calling to see if we're still on for coffee this afternoon."

Jim leaned against the wall, eyes closed, basking for just a moment in the bubbly, warm tones of Pam's voice. "No, I don't think I can make it. Things are kinda rough down here. I can't get away."

He heard Pam inhale sharply. He could see her brows furrow as she tilted her head. "No? What's wrong, Jim?" Her voice was still warm, but the bubbliness had evaporated in a moment.

"My mom's kinda, well, delusional, I guess. That's the word the nurse used, anyway. She ripped out her IV, and she attacked this girl who was going to take her blood and now she keeps trying to get out of bed." Jim opened his eyes briefly to look around and make sure no one was listening to him. He felt sheepish saying it out loud, so he dropped his voice to a whisper. "She thinks the nurses are trying to kill her."

"Oh, Jim. I'm so sorry." She was pacing; he could hear it in the rhythm of her speech. "There's nothing much going on here right now. I think I've already seen all the doctors today. I could come down there if you want."

Jim could hear the urgency in Pam's voice. She really wanted to be there for him. But no fucking way she was meeting his mother like this.

"No!"

He could hear Pam inhale a sharp breath – but she didn't say a word. He closed his eyes, visualizing her biting her lip, blinking back tears.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be harsh."

"Ok. I understand." Damn. She was trying to sound like everything was fine but she was on the verge of tears. He didn't need this right now. His hands were full with his mother's mood swings. "You think you can make dinner?" Pam added softly, "You're gonna need a break some time, Jim."

"I don't know. I'll try. Say seven o'clock? If I'm not there by seven thirty, grab me something before they close and I'll eat at the room, ok?"

"I see you looking at me! Don't act like you're not!"

"I gotta go! I'll talk to you later." Jim didn't wait for a response before he clicked the phone shut and rushed back into his mother's room.

* * *

Jim spied Pam across the cafeteria. She was sitting at a table with the Walker Man. Pam sat alongside the old man, with her body angled toward him. Approaching them from behind, Jim could only get an occasional glimpse of their faces. But, judging from their body language, they were having a great conversation. Pam was gesturing animatedly and laughing while the Walker Man spoke. She wasn't talking much but it was obvious that, whatever story the man was telling her, she was totally enthralled. She looked totally unguarded and happy. Not at all the tense Pam he'd seen for most of the past few months.

It was a shame that he'd totally wreck the mood as soon as he opened his damned depressed mouth. Maybe he could get close and just listen for a few minutes. He wondered how close he could get without their noticing him. As he drew near to the table, he realized the pair was speaking pretty loudly – apparently the Walker Man was hard of hearing.

Jim settled on a table that was two tables away from where Pam and the Walker Man were sitting. The pair was in rapt conversation and they'd never see him sitting eight feet behind, so he settled in to observe them for a while.

The Walker Man was very pleasant looking, if a bit disheveled. His sweater was worn thin and hung slightly askew on his frame, as if he'd lost a lot of weight since he bought it. His pants, too, looked oversized, bunched up and cinched tight by his belt. Jim could only see his face in profile. He had big, old man ears and thinning gray hair. What a smile, though! His smile reached all the way to his eyes. Jim unconsciously cocked his ear toward the table as he squinted in concentration. Yep. His voice was smiling, too.

Pam laughed a melodious, jubilant laugh … the one Jim used to hear almost every day. Hearing it again made him ache just a little.

"No way! You didn't talk to her for two years?"

"That's right. But my dad was a mailman downtown and sometimes he saw her walking down the street at lunch time. He always had a soft spot for Helen so, every time he saw her, he'd be sure to tell me how beautiful she looked."

"Well, one night I finally worked up my courage and decided to call her. When she answered the phone, I put on my Cary Grant voice and said _Hello, Helen. This is Johnny_." The old man paused and turned toward Pam with laughing eyes. "And you know what she said?"

Jim listened to the elderly man but he couldn't take his eyes from Pam. She gave the man her absolute, undivided attention. Her eyes twinkled and her cheeks were pink from laughing.

"She said _Johnny who?_"

Jim turned toward the Walker Man, startled. Wow. How could a guy claw his way out of _that_ hole?

Pam squealed as her hands flew to her mouth. Jim smiled at how invested she was in this story.

"Oh my God! She didn't _remember_ you?"

Out of his peripheral vision, Jim noted that the Walker Man was still smiling. "That's right."

Pam tried to put on a stern face. She never was very good at sternness. "You're not making this up?"

"Nope."

Pam laid her hand on the old man's forearm. "I can't _imagine_! You must've wanted to die."

The man's smile flickered for just a moment. "Well it was pretty deflating, I'll admit." He suddenly sat more upright in his seat as he nodded his head and the smile returned. "But it made me more determined than ever to impress her." The gentleman paused for effect. "And I guess it worked. We eloped to Philadelphia two years later."

Pam leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Jim shook his head. Her interrogation posture – he'd never watched her interact with anyone else this way. He'd always thought she only did these things for him. It kinda hurt to watch her flirting with the old man. That _was_ what she was doing. Not _hitting on him_ flirting but it was definitely flirtatious banter. On the other hand, watching it as a spectator, well, he could see why he'd been a goner for so long.

Pam turned serious. "Yeah, that was how this whole story started. Why did you elope, anyway?"

"That, young lady, is a whole 'nother story." The old man patted Pam's hand fondly. "One which I will tell you the next time I have the pleasure of sharing a meal with you. And _you_ can tell me all about why you and _your_ young man eloped."

Pam blushed a rosy pink at the man's words. As Jim smiled, he became aware that his face was feeling a bit warm, too. Now _that's_ a story he'd like to hear, too. What romantic and funny and dramatic moments would she conjure up? He wished she didn't have to conjure at _all_.

The Walker Man motioned toward the photo laid on the table before Pam.

"Oh! Yes, here you go." Pam took another look at the photo as she handed it to the elderly man. "You're right. Helen was a beautiful bride."

The old man smiled as he gingerly placed the photo in the center of the wad of bills in his money clip. "I think so. She gets mad as a wet hen when she catches me showing this picture to people. She says she's old and fat and gray and it's an embarrassment to have strangers see it." He looked at the photo fondly as he carefully folded the bills around it. "But to me, she'll always be my lovely bride. I call her that, you know. My lovely bride. I still see that pretty smile and dark, curly hair whenever I look at her."

Pam smiled warmly as she took the man's hand into her own. "John, Helen is one lucky woman to have a man like you. So in love after fifty years."

So John was his name.

"Well, Pam, your Jim is a lucky man, too. I hope the two of you will be this happy in fifty-three years."

"I do, too, John." Pam spoke earnestly as she squeezed his hand, "I really do."

Jim's heart began to race. Did she mean that? She sounded awfully convincing. She could be just acting the part but she really did sound sincere. Holy God, he would love it if she meant that.

Jim was startled from his reverie as the old man struggled to rise to his feet. His balance was tentative as he tried to force the chair to slide out so he could back away from the table. Jim sprang forward to help him. "Here! Let me." He turned to Pam as if he'd just arrived. "So, I see you found a better looking dinner date."

Pam's eyes twinkled. "You betcha!" She turned toward the Walker Man. "John, this is my husband, Jim. Jim, this is John. He was just telling me all about his _lovely bride_ and how they met during the war. Isn't that sweet? They're married over fifty years and he still calls her his lovely bride." Pam turned to John. "Oh! Can Jim see Helen's picture?"

"Sure!" The old man slowly reached into his pocket and retrieved the wad of bills. He extracted a laminated wallet photograph and handed it to Jim.

A vibrant young woman smiled out of the photo at Jim. She wore a crisp, short sleeved white dress, lace at the sleeves and about 20 buttons up the front. Her only accessories were an orchid corsage and a shirred, heart shaped white hat. In her lacy, gloved hands, she held a small white prayer book. The photo was _really_ old, not a regular color picture but a tinted black and white. It reminded Jim of his grandparents' wedding pictures. Jim searched the young woman's face. She looked relaxed and confident. Jim grinned as he returned the photo. "I see what Pam means. She is a lovely bride."

"I've always thought so." The man chuckled proudly and turned happily to Pam. "Now, see, _he_ sees it the way I do. She _is_ my lovely bride. You've got yourself a romantic fellow there, Mrs. Halpert. In fifty years he'll _still_ think you're as beautiful as he does today." John nodded happily. "You'll see."

As he began to shuffle off, John turned once more to the pair. "Well, I'm off to see Helen. I hope I run into you kids tomorrow."

Jim watched the old man as he walked away. As comical as he looked with the baggy clothes and the flowers and Easter eggs all over the walker, there was still a dignity about him. It wasn't that he walked straight and tall or anything. He actually was pretty stooped and, the further he walked, the more pronounced the shuffle became. But Jim could tell he was content with his life, difficulties and all.

A little boy sauntered past John, staring at the walker, wide-eyed in amazement. Squeezing the bike horn to let out a couple of short toots, John gave the boy a friendly wave. The child's face lit up and he waved back excitedly as he gestured for his mom to look.

That's the kind of guy he wanted to be in fifty-three years, Jim thought. An eighty year old guy who was focused on the joy in life and flirted with Pam Beesly's and four year old boys. That would be a sweet deal.


	32. She Loves You

**She Loves You**

Pam studied Jim's profile as he watched John leave the cafeteria. He'd taken John's seat beside her, so she angled her chair to face him more fully. He wore a sweet, wistful expression that made her wonder what he was thinking about. But his relaxed demeanor seemed to follow the old man out the door. His jaw began to flex – a dead giveaway that Jim felt something was out of control. Jim cast a glance at Pam, raised his hand, index finger pointed and – nothing. He shook his head and blew out a deep breath. Combed his fingers through his hair. Pam pulled her chair closer to Jim, so that their knees were barely touching, and waited expectantly.

"So, yeah, my mom." Jim covered his mouth with his hand and stared vacantly across the cafeteria. "I told you that she thinks there's a big conspiracy going on." He turned to look at Pam with an expression full of wonder. "She thinks there's a baby factory in the basement."

"What?"

Jim nodded slowly as he met Pam's wide-eyed stare. "Yep. And she says they're taking the _little_ vials of blood from her for the _little_ babies. She's convinced they're gonna keep taking her blood till they suck her dry – literally."

Jim idly took Pam's styrofoam coffee cup and began to turn it in his hands, scrutinizing the purple flowers printed around its circumference. He set the cup back in front of her and continued, "When I got back from trying to talk to you, she'd ripped out her IV and two nurses had basically tackled her. You wouldn't have believed it, Pam. She was telling everyone that I'm in the CIA and she was going to have me _kill them_ if they didn't let her go. Me." Chuckling sardonically, he made a sweeping gesture toward himself, "Me. The guy who can't even defend _himself_ from assault."

He did _not_ just say that. "Jim!" Pam squeaked as she batted his arm.

Jim gave Pam a rueful smile. "It's true and you know it. I woulda been toast if it wasn't for Dwight." He turned serious again. "Anyway, I spent most of the day trying to keep her from climbing out of bed. I can't imagine how it's not hurting like hell for her to be moving as much as she is. So, at one point, this technician came in to do a – a Doppler test?"

Pam nodded. That sounded right.

"Ok, he came in to do a Doppler test on her leg. She didn't want him to do it, so I tried to explain that she had one yesterday. That he was just using sound waves to look for blood clots and it wouldn't hurt at all." Jim swallowed and looked away from Pam. "And I could see the wheels going in her head. She decided right then that I was part of the conspiracy. And then she was just _cold_ for the rest of the day. She told me that if I wasn't going to help her I should just get the hell out." Pam shuddered at the way Jim's voice broke.

For the next forty minutes, as they got their food and sat to eat, Jim continued to tell Pam about the things his mother had said throughout the day. It was hard for Pam to comprehend that she'd said such ugly things to her son; Jim didn't talk about his parents a lot but, when he did, it always sounded like they had a wonderful, close relationship. Pam's dad never became vicious like this when he was ill so, for the first time, she felt at a loss about what to say to Jim.

As they exited the cafeteria, Pam and Jim set their trays on the conveyer belt to the kitchen. Pam stole a glance at Jim as the pair walked slowly toward the main corridor. His brow was still furrowed, his shoulders slumped inward. It seemed to require great effort for him to place one foot in front of the other. She was sure that something more was weighing him down. He'd vented for the entire meal and yet, as bad as everything he'd told her had been, she knew he was burdened with something even worse – and it was something he felt he couldn't share.

Pam took Jim's hand firmly and said, "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Pam led Jim surely up the stairwell and through several corridors on the first floor. Jim noted with surprise that she never once stopped to get her bearings. He still couldn't go anywhere without stopping at least twice to look for landmarks.

Pam suddenly stopped before a heavy wooden door.

"The chapel?"

Pam nodded silently as she pulled open the door to reveal the softly lit room inside. It looked like a tiny Catholic church, oak pews darkened with age, stained glass windows, a small altar. It was cool and had that slightly musty odor that permeates spaces that are always enclosed.

Pam led Jim to the second to the last pew and sat close to him, so that they were lightly touching from shoulder to knee. She laid their hands – still firmly clasped – in her lap, her thumb absently drawing the same circle over and over on the back of Jim's hand.

The silence loomed large; she felt it like a physical presence wedged between them. Did Jim feel it, too? She'd thought it would be so easy, that she could bring him here and it would immediately calm him as it did her. She thought he'd just feel the tight coil in his belly begin to unwind and he would unburden himself to her.

But that obviously wasn't happening. In fact, she could feel Jim tensing even more, fidgeting as he tried to figure out why she'd brought him here. Pam stilled her thumb and drew a deep breath as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back over the pew. She could feel Jim waiting for her to speak.

"I want – I want to –" Pam sighed as she looked at Jim's hand in her lap and thumbed a few more languid circles. "I want to apologize for bailing out on you last night. I know it really ticked you off and – "

Jim interjected in a conciliatory tone, "Pam, it's –"

"No. Let me finish. Please."

From the corner of her eye, Pam saw Jim nod his assent. "Thanks." Taking a shaky breath, she paused briefly before continuing. "When my dad was in the hospital – toward the end – he and I used to escape to the chapel to talk. He'd ask the nurse if his daughter could wheel him down to say an _Our Father_ or two. And they almost always said yes. I mean, what kind of person is going to tell a dying man he can't go say a prayer?

Pam felt Jim's grip tighten for a fleeting moment, but he didn't interrupt her again. He sat silent, patiently waiting.

"But the thing is, we never did really pray. We'd just sit and hold hands and talk." Pam lifted Jim's hand and gestured between them as she stole her first glance at him since she'd begun to speak. "Like this." As she set their hands back onto her lap, she turned her gaze toward the stained glass windows to her left.

"That was my special time. Just Dad and me. We'd talk about how scared I was of losing him. And he promised me that, if he could find a way to be there for me, he would. Or he'd find a way to send someone to watch over me. I used to think –"

She used to think her father had sent Jim to watch over her. She remembered very clearly the day she'd decided that it was so. Roy had gone away for a weekend at the lake with Kenny – and it wasn't just any weekend. It was her father's birthday. She didn't bother mentioning it to Roy; he had a hard enough time remembering his fiancé's birthday, much less someone's who was dead. So for the first time she'd complained to Jim that Roy often seemed to prefer those drunken weekends with his brother over being at home with her. Of course, she didn't tell Jim the real reason for her melancholy, either. But, on his way out on Friday evening, Jim had rapped twice on her desk and declared, "Well, little missy, if you need anything this weekend, you just call me."

Nearly four years later, the memory still stunned her. It was _exactly_ what her father used to say to her when she left to spend the night at a girlfriend's house. The first time Pam went to a sleepover, she had a nightmare and spent most of the night staring into the darkness, fighting back her tears. Her father sensed something was wrong on the drive home the next morning and questioned Pam gently until she admitted what had happened. "Honey, if you are ever in a situation that scares you like that, you call me and I'll come for you. Ok?"

Over the years, every time her father dropped her off, the words remained the same. "Well, little missy, if you need anything you just call me." But the connotation of her father's offer changed. Pam passed the age of childish nightmares and entered the age of adolescent peer pressure. It didn't matter if the problem was ghostly shadows, boys who were trying to cop a feel, or some stranger who was passing a joint in her direction – she knew that, if she felt overwhelmed, all she had to do was call and he'd be there for her.

Pam had really been missing her father that week. The prospect of the weekend alone left her feeling abandoned and angry, not only at Roy but at her father. He'd promised he'd find a way to be there for her, or he'd send someone to watch over her. He'd _promised_.

And then Jim had said those words. "Well, little missy, if you need anything this weekend, you just call me." He'd never called her _little missy_ before – or since. Maybe her father _had_ found a way to send the perfect person to watch over her.

Pam's reverie was broken by Jim's voice. " – think what?"

Pam sighed. "What?"

"I said, you used to think what?"

"Oh. Nothing." She tried to shake the memory off, to get back to the present. "Well, anyway, sometimes we would just be together. He –" God, this was a lot harder than she'd expected. Pam blinked back a tear. "He gave me a lot of strength those days. Otherwise, I don't know how I could have gotten through it.

"Yesterday. Well, yesterday was the worst day I've lived through for months. Since y–" Pam paused mid-sentence. "Well, in a really long time. I just needed to try to feel him with me again, to get some of that strength back. So I left you. For an incredibly long time. You were all alone and I knew that. And I'm so sorry."

Pam waited for Jim to say something – _anything_. She didn't know what she'd do if he didn't respond _somehow_. Oh, God, he must still be really mad about it. She hadn't meant to be so selfish. It was just –

"—work?"

Pam tried to rewind the last few moments in her head but she just wasn't sure what Jim had said. She felt Jim gently lean into her shoulder.

"I said, did it work?"

"Oh, yeah, I think it did. Yeah."

Pam felt Jim's fingers, interlaced with her own, barely tighten their grip for a passing moment. "Good. I'm glad."

The pair sat together in silence. Pam had no idea how much time passed. She probably shouldn't have gone on about visiting the chapel with her father. She couldn't imagine it was going to do anything to encourage Jim to tell her what was bothering him. She'd just felt compelled to share that memory with him.

Jim turned his head away from Pam. She could feel his back stiffen and, out of the corner of her eye, she could make out his jaw flexing. She held his hand between her own and waited for him to decide whether to speak.

"She said she never loved me." The words came out in a torrent as Jim steadfastly refused to return Pam's shocked stare. "She said she never wanted kids and she tried to talk dad out of having any more after Jon. My God, Pam, _my mother_ said she didn't want me and she never loved me." He choked on his words as he stared at nothing in particular on the wall to his right. "Do you think this is like when some people get buzzed and they say the awful but true things they normally hold inside?"

"No, Jim."

Jim's voice quivered and his eyebrows furrowed deeply while a tear plummeted off his chin. "Holy hell, Pam. How can I be so unlovable that even my _mom_ doesn't love me?"

Squeezing Jim's hand tightly between her own, Pam felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Her chest felt tight and a wave of nausea passed through her. How could he even think that? He was the most lovable person Pam had ever, ever met. "That's not true, Jim! You know it's not. A lot of people love you. I do, Karen does, Jon, your dad, your _mom_. We all love you."

Jim shook his head harshly and snatched his hand from Pam's. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Jim. Look at me." Pam placed her hand firmly on Jim's damp jaw and gently turned his face toward her. He glanced at her briefly then his eyes darted away.

"Jim." She said his name so softly it was little more than a breath. Pam stilled her voice but not her hand. Her thumb stroked the wet stubble on his cheek, then her fingers threaded their way through his hair. He still refused to meet her eyes. Maybe she should tell him now. He surely needed to feel that _someone_ loved him. But no. This wasn't the way she wanted to tell him. And this wasn't about her.

"Hey, Halpert.

"Jim. Look at me. Please.

"Thank you." Pam blew out a breath. God, it was killing her to look at his tear-filled eyes. She wanted to hold him and kiss his pain away. But he wasn't crying over her, so that wouldn't work, would it?

"Jim, before tonight, have you _ever_ had any reason to doubt your mother's love?"

Jim said nothing but gave the merest shake of the head. She wasn't sure she even saw it.

"Aren't you the guy who said _I have a great relationship with my mom. I can talk to her about just about anything_.

Jim's eyes darted away again but he nodded. Pam watched him closely as she continued, "Didn't you tell me that she used to sell concessions through the whole _freezing_ football season so she wouldn't have to miss a single home game during basketball season?"

"Yeah."

Jim still wasn't saying much but at least he'd stopped grinding his teeth. "_And_ I'm thinking I heard something about embarrassing introductions." Pam affected the falsetto voice Jim had used when he'd told her the story. "_Ooh_!" she cooed "_is this Larissa's famous basketball star? Ooh, Jimmy! I've heard so much about you! Ooh, Jimmy – aren't you the one who—_"

Jim continued to turn his face away from Pam and she saw a tear slip down his cheek. But he was smiling faintly and gazing fixedly off in the distance as he often did when reminiscing.

"Hey, you." Pam's voice dropped to a whisper as she resumed drawing circles on the back of Jim's hand. He finally turned his tear-streaked face toward her. "You _know_ how much she loves you. Trust yourself. You can tell when someone really, really loves you. You can feel it. Right –" Pam laid the palm of her hand flat against Jim's heart. " – here." She gathered Jim's shirt into her fist and lightly thumped his chest. "She. Loves. You. You know it."

The beginnings of a smile played on Jim's lips and he nodded. "Yeah. You're right, I guess."

"Of course I am. Didn't you say the wife is _always_ right?"

Giving Pam a weary smile, he squeezed her hand and leaned back in the pew. "This was such a horrible day. I think it was the worst day I've ever lived through."

Pam leaned against Jim's shoulder and laid her free hand on his forearm. "I'm so sorry. Did they give you any idea how long it'll take her to come out of it?"

Jim sighed heavily. "The nurse said some people are fine as soon as the morphine is all out of their system." He looked away from Pam again. "And, for others, it can take _days_. I don't think I can do this again for days on end, Pam."

"You'll be amazed, Jim. You just do what you have to. You have no idea where the strength comes from – but it does." Pam raised her eyebrows. "Besides, maybe we'll be lucky and your mom will be one of the speedy ones."

Pam paused to study Jim. "You ready to head back up there? Like I said earlier, nothing much is going on with your dad right now. I hadn't planned to go back to the CCU tonight, anyway. I could go with you for a while."

"Thanks, but no, Pam. She'd never want this –" he gestured vaguely in the air "to be your first impression of her. I mean she wouldn't want to meet anyone like this, but especially you. I've, um, I've spoken a lot about you over the years and she knows – how highly I think of you. She'd just – no."

Jim gathered Pam into a hug. "I'm gonna head up to my mom's room for a while. You go back to our room and relax for a while. I'll be over as soon as I can, ok?"

Pam nodded into his chest.

Before standing to leave, Jim squeezed Pam tightly to him and laid his cheek against her hair. "And Pam? Thanks for –" He paused briefly and shook his head. "Just – thanks."


	33. Trust Yourself

**Trust Yourself**

Jim slowly worked his way from the chapel back to his mother's room. He didn't like to admit it, but he was in no hurry to see his mom again. He didn't feel so desolate anymore, though, so that was something. Pam was right _again_, he thought with a wry smile. This could get pretty irritating if she wasn't so sweet about it – or if she wasn't always _taking care of him_ when she was being right. Jim pushed his hands into his pants pockets, jiggling his change, nodding deep in thought. It did feel good to know that Pam had his back. In the notes she wrote for him she said _And remember – I'll do anything you need me to do. You'll be there for your parents and I'll be there for you._ And she really was.

But anyway, like she said, he really should put more faith in twenty-eight years of experience than in a few hours of a drug-induced rant. His mom did love him. His brain was quite sure of it – and his bruised heart was starting to come around, too. But still – he _wasn't_ looking forward to spending another couple of hours with the angry, combative woman he'd been with all day.

He surprised himself – he actually knew now that there was a short way back and a longer route to his mother's room. He was starting to know his way around like Pam did. Without making a conscious decision, Jim found himself taking the long way back. The scenic route, he thought to himself. And, even though Jim normally wasn't a nosy person, he couldn't help himself from peeking into nearly every room he passed. It was fairly late, so most visitors had left for the night. Some patients were asleep; some stared vacantly at the televisions that were mounted high on the wall. One pair of tiny elderly ladies faced each other in their wheelchairs, playing cards on a tray table that had been pushed lower than he thought they could possibly go.

The closer Jim got to his mother's room, the more effort it took to put one foot before the other. It was like walking on a huge sticky mouse trap – each time he set a foot down, his foot positively adhered to the beige linoleum. He had to force himself to take every step. Truth be told, he'd felt trapped all afternoon, wanting to flee but knowing he had to stay and keep his mother in that bed.

Holy God, he hoped his mother was coming to her senses. And _there_ it was again – after all the ways his parents had supported him over the years, he caught himself begrudging them his support the first time they ever needed it. What a great son.

On the other hand, he had to figure that _anybody_ would have had a hell of a time maintaining a positive attitude toward his mother this afternoon. Talking with Pam had helped a lot but he knew he'd be right back in a tailspin if his mother looked him directly in the eye and told him again that _I never loved you, anyway_. Jim began to steel himself for the assault he felt was sure to come. With each step every nerve ending in his body rebelled, screaming that he'd already withstood all he could take for one day and begging him, for the love of God, to please just turn around and run in the opposite direction. Back to Pam, who was sane and said she loved him for Christ's sake.

Jim came to a dead stop. Holy shit – she actually did say that, didn't she? _A lot of people love you. I do, Karen does, Jon, your dad, your mom. We all love you._

Jim glanced around to make sure no one had noticed him standing there, blushing hot and grinning like an idiot. Without realizing it, he buried his smile behind his hand as he shook his head to snap himself back to reality. She probably just meant she loved him like a friend. Otherwise, why'd she include Karen in that list?

But it was something. More than she'd ever admitted in the past – that was for damn sure.

Jim's pace quickened as his mood improved, and he soon found himself back at 3 West. He headed directly to the nursing station. Jessica had told him that, if his mom became unmanageable while he was at dinner, she'd wheel her in her recliner to the nursing station so the desk nurse could keep an eye on her.

With his heart racing and his head pounding, Jim held his breath as he approached the station. He saw Jessica talking to another nurse. He eyed them carefully, looking for any signs of stress or fatigue – signs that any of their patients had become _unmanageable_. But no, both women looked relaxed, leaning easily on the counter. From the gestures the other nurse was making, he guessed they were having a discussion about – fashion? Jessica glanced up and caught Jim's eye. Smiling broadly, she flashed him a thumbs up and mouthed the words _She's asleep_.

Jim felt a whoosh of breath leave him as if someone had suddenly turned a valve. He couldn't remember ever feeling such a sudden sense of relief. No telling who his mom would be when she woke up but at least his reprieve would last a little while longer.

Jim waved a thank you to Jessica and backtracked to his mother's room. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pretending to check a message as he walked through the door. He just couldn't allow himself to meet his mom's roommate's eye. He was mortified to think she'd overheard all the humiliating things his mother had said to him throughout the day. The _private_ in _semi-private_ room was pretty much a joke, he thought bitterly. It was all but impossible to do anything but listen in to what was going on in the other side of the room. And his mom hadn't exactly lowered her voice when she called him out on doing nothing with his life or when she informed him that she'd never loved him, anyway.

Jim moved quickly to the far side of the room and angled his chair to prevent any possible eye contact with the woman on the other side of the room. He felt peculiarly intimidated by this woman – and he didn't even know her name.

Jim settled stiffly into the chair, leaning forward to look at his mother. Wow. He leaned in further to look more closely. This was the first time all day that she looked like herself. All day long her face had been pinched in anger and pain. She'd looked tense, even in sleep, constantly in motion, limbs jerking beneath the sheets. But now her brow was smooth; her breathing, even and steady. She was finally resting without grinding her teeth. Jim felt an unexpected surge of hope course through his system.

Jim leaned back in his chair, feeling relaxed for the first time in this long, grueling day. He had to laugh when he finally risked a peek at his mother's roommate – she was lying on her side, facing the opposite wall, long brown hair flowing on the pillow and her tiny frame expanding and contracting rhythmically with her steady breathing. Fast asleep. He couldn't have met her eye if he'd tried.

Jim glanced about the room. Pieces of trash were littered about. A used Kleenex, a salt packet leftover from dinner, wrappers from straws and a partially full carton of chocolate milk. Jim mindlessly gathered up the trash and tossed it quietly into the wastebasket near his mother's bed. He silently worked his way through the room, his mind wandering back yet again to the things his mother had said earlier in the day. _What is it with you and this Dwight, anyway? When exactly do you go on sales calls – it seems you always just hang out and goof around in your office._ She'd been on a roll for a good twenty minutes with variants of _What the hell do you do all day, anyway?_

He'd never really thought about how much more his parents knew about his daily activities than most parents did. Well, sort of. Each episode included maybe ten minutes a week of his forty work hours – ten minutes that the producers _chose and edited_. He shuddered to think that in a few months the current "season" would be released. The local PBS affiliate didn't carry the show so it was easy to overlook the significance of those cameras, to avoid thinking about what "spin" the producers might choose when they edited the footage.

But come summer his life would be available for purchase at Target and Walmart. The gossiping secretaries at his mother's school and Jim Mortensen, the Todd Packer clone who worked for his dad, would see that he'd basically pissed away a promotion and still filled his days playing pranks on Andy and Dwight. They'd see the shitty way he'd used Karen for the past five months. He couldn't decide which was worse – that Mortensen would slap his dad on the back with a wink and a leering _Didn't think the kid had it in him, Ted_ or that the secretaries would lie in wait until his mother was within earshot and _then_ they'd cluck and wonder aloud if his parents had raised him with any values at all.

Jim knew there were websites where "fans" discussed the lives of everyone at Dunder-Mifflin Scranton. People who thought they _knew_ him and his co-workers because they saw those ten minutes of a person's life every week – like those girls in the cafeteria. But he'd never realized that people who knew his _family_ were part of that group. That his personal choices and failings would create fallout for his parents as well. How'd he manage to entirely miss that until now?

On the other hand, his parents had never said anything that indicated they were ashamed of him. Well, not until recently, anyway, till his dad made the pronouncement that _I didn't raise my sons to use women like this_.

Jim shook his head, wondering how long his mother had argued for his father to hold his tongue. She said she'd pleaded with him not to say anything. That would be just like his mom. It drove her nuts when her sister or her friends tried to impose their will on their adult children. It annoyed the crap out of her when they badgered their kids about producing grandchildren, or where to buy their houses, or who they dated or married. Her philosophy about children was _raise them well and let them live_. So, yeah, she would've swallowed a world of disappointment without saying a word.

Jim mentally tallied the wreckage of his relationships. His father saw him as a womanizer who didn't deserve any respect. He'd put his mom in the distasteful position of defending his right to act in a way that was, well, indefensible. His brother told him to his face that he thought he'd become an asshole. And Karen? Well, there was a woman who'd never experienced an honest moment with him in their whole relationship. She was a great person and she sure as hell deserved better than he would ever give her.

Then there was Pam. What to make of his relationship with Pam? He'd been more of a prick to her for the past few months than Roy had been in _all_ the years Jim had spent judging him from the sidelines. And still here she was, supporting him 24/7, using up her leave, putting her life on hold. Would she do all this for just a friend? Jim stretched his legs out and slouched more deeply in the chair as he mulled this over. Yeah, she probably would – even for Andy or Dwight if one of them found themselves alone in this awful situation.

But still, he felt like there was more to it than that. A little while ago in the chapel, the way she touched him didn't feel like the touch of a friend. The way she caressed his hand and cheek, ran her fingers though his hair – well, it felt intimate.

And what had she said? _You can tell when someone really, really loves you. You can feel it. Right here._ A tingling warmth flooded Jim as he recalled the sensation of his shirt going taut under Pam's fist and the gentle pressure of her hand, pounding his heart to emphasize each word. _You know how much she loves you. Trust yourself._

Maybe she wasn't just talking about his mother.

He was pretty sure she wasn't just talking about his mother.

Holy hell, she _really wasn't_ just talking about his mother!

Laughing aloud, Jim shook his head and leaned forward, burying his grin in his palm. Jesus. She was still as indirect and ambiguous as ever, but Pam was trying to tell him that she loved him. He was totally, completely, 95% positive of it.

Jim abruptly stood from the chair and began to pace the narrow space between his mother's bed and the window. Pam loved him. It did mean something – everything – that she didn't marry Roy. It meant something when she asked him out for coffee. It meant a _lot_ that she worked so long so give him the perfect Christmas gift; it took her months, _months_, to set up that CIA prank on Dwight. And he'd almost refused it.

What the hell was wrong with him all this time? He should've recognized the hellish position he'd put Pam into, the unwilling voyeur in a horrible ménage a trios. Without realizing it, he'd required the unthinkable from her: that she place her own happiness above others'; that she ignore society's taboos against stealing someone's lover; that she do what he'd never, not once in over three years, been able to do. On those rare occasions when he was honest with himself about that beautiful, catastrophic May night, Jim had to admit that he'd confessed his love for her by mistake. He only meant to tell her about the transfer to Stamford; _I'm in love with you_ slipped out all on its own. But he wanted Pam to be brave and declare her love clearly and concretely – in the face of his ongoing hostility.

That was never gonna happen. Not as long as he was with Karen. He knew Pam and she'd never do that to Karen. But she'd found a way to let him know, nonetheless.

Jim sank into the chair, uncertain that his legs would support him. He combed his fingers through his hair and leaned his chin into his palm. Wow. Pam loved him.

OK. Jim could make good things come of this horrible accident. He would start to make things right with his parents. As hard as it was going to be, he'd be honest with Karen for the first time in their relationship. Pretty ironic that the first time he'd be straight with her would be to break up, but there it was. And, even though it scared the living shit out of him to even think about it, he would trust Pam with his heart again.

Jim leaned forward to kiss his sleeping mother. He was going to start right now and go talk to his dad for a few minutes. Maybe something he'd say would get through. If nothing else, he'd get a practice run at an apology that was long overdue.

* * *

_Hello out there! If anyone's enjoying this story, I'd be SO happy to hear from you. As always, thanks to **TaioraWarrior** and **HonoraryDAMember** for taking a minute to leave a review for each chapter. I appreciate it!_


	34. He Wouldn't Touch Her

**He Wouldn't Touch Her**

Jim meandered aimlessly through the public corridors of the hospital's first floor, feeling the oddest combination of tingly euphoria and nauseating dread. Good things were happening – really good things. The nurse said his father was finally stable enough to extubate him. The doctor would remove the ventilator tube at 9 or 9:30 in the morning. And, while that was _great_ news, it was a problem for Jim. He couldn't very well be in two places at the same time. He'd left a couple more messages on Jon's voice mail but the bastard still hadn't called back. So now Jim had to _choose _which parent he'd be with in the morning_. _He didn't want his dad to wake up alone, but he wasn't sure it'd be _safe_ to leave his mom alone, either. It wouldn't be practical for him to go back and forth – his parents' rooms were too far apart. He couldn't just leave Pam for the whole day with either of them. Hell, as much as they'd heard about her, they'd never even met her.

The more he thought about it, the faster he walked. He wished he could sit down with a beer, just unwind for a few minutes. Even a soda or a cup of coffee – anything. But virtually everything in the hospital was closed. The gift shop closed at seven. The cafeteria at eight. And that was it – even in the daytime, the hospital didn't have any other places to hang out. He had three choices at the moment: go home to Pam at the Physicians Office Building, park himself in the lobby sitting area, or head to the chapel. Jim chose a chair in the deserted lobby and flopped himself down, dropping his head into his hands.

How to decide? Safety was probably the most important thing. Yeah. He should stay with his mom. She actually might hurt herself if she was left alone. But what if his dad took it as a slap in the face if he woke up alone? He'd been giving his dad the cold shoulder for weeks now, so his father definitely might see it that way. Would his dad ever come to understand the hellish predicament he was in right now? Or would this be the fatal blow to their relationship?

That would just be too ironic – to end up losing his father even if he made it through this ordeal. OK. He was _not_ going there.

Wait! Jessica had said they'd park his mom by the nursing station if she acted up while he was at dinner. Maybe they could do that in the morning. Yeah. That would be better. He needed to be with his dad when he came to.

But what would he tell Pam to do in the morning? _Hey, how about you just hang out in the room till the coast is clear?_ Yeah, that would sound great. But she did say _You'll be there for your parents and I'll be there for you_. And really? Right now the idea of Pam's being alone with his parents – awake parents – was a complication he just didn't need. She'd get it. She always got it. _Because she loved him._

Jim flushed just thinking about it. Holy shit! Pam loved him. She loved him and that asshole Roy was finally out of the picture and – Jim's heart sank. Karen. He was such a monumental fuck up. Now Pam was finally free and willing and he was – not. He'd misused Karen badly enough already. He was _not_ about to add another insult by having her find out that he'd cheated on her. He owed her that much.

Jim picked up a small magazine from the table next to him, something to keep his hands busy. He flipped through it without registering what was on any of the pages. Tossing the magazine back on the table, he leaned back in the chair and groaned inwardly. His chances of controlling himself once they both laid their cards on the table? Virtually nil. So, if he was going to avoid being a lying, _cheating _SOB, he had to pretend to be in the dark until he got home and talked to Karen _face to face_. He owed her that much, too.

Well, he was good at faking the buddy thing with Pam, anyway. He had years of practice, right? He could make it a few more days until Jon arrived. But shit – he'd never had to fake it _in the same bed_ with her. For the next few days, he'd have to pull off the most convincing performance of his life. No way was he starting a relationship with Pam by cheating on Karen. And it would just be cruel to have her think he knew how she felt but didn't feel the same way. No. Until they were back in Scranton, he had to pretend to be clueless.

Pursing his lips, Jim patted his knees and stood up from the chair. He rubbed the fabric of his jeans. OK. Everything was decided. If his mom was still crazy in the morning, he'd ask the nurses to watch her for a few hours at the nursing station. He'd spend the morning with his dad – be with him when he woke up. He'd ask Pam to spend the morning relaxing until one of his parents was ready to meet her. And tonight, he wouldn't touch her.

Jim walked toward the Physicians Office Building, telling himself he couldn't touch her. He'd told himself that for years but it had always been because he was afraid of making an ass of himself. Afraid that she'd be provoked or offended and would cut off their friendship. This was completely different. He bit his lower lip, trying to repress a smile. This time he couldn't touch her because she _would_ respond. Just thinking about it got his mind wandering.

What would it feel like to cradle Pam's breasts in his hands? He could imagine cupping them through the ribbed cotton of that camisole. He could feel his thumb nail catch along the ridges of the fabric as he barely brushed her breast. Her nipples would stiffen and she'd moan a soft little breath. She'd arch beneath his touch and shift her body just enough to coax him into giving both breasts equal attention.

Oh, fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it. He wanted Pam more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. More than he'd ever wanted her before – and he hadn't thought that was possible. This knowing that she could be his – but not yet – this was going to kill him.

But he'd waited so long for this. No way he was going to screw it up with a bad start. And beginning a relationship with Pam by cheating on Karen … well, that would _definitely_ be a bad start.

_He wouldn't touch her. He wouldn't touch her._ As Jim opened the door to room 518, he repeated it like an incantation. _He wouldn't touch her._

"Hey, Pam. I've been thinking about tomorrow…"

* * *

Jim awoke suddenly, aroused, awash in sensation. As he began to move, he felt Pam wrapped tightly around him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself create a mental checklist.

The arch of her right foot cradled his left calf and her right leg hugged the length of his. Her left thigh lay high across his stomach. Her left foot lay just below his groin, with the sole resting against the sensitive skin of his upper left thigh and the top of her foot skimming his upper right thigh. Each time he drew a breath, he felt her leg rise and her foot gently caress him.

Her right arm crossed under the small of his back and her fingers curled snugly around the soft flesh between his ribs and his right hip.

Her breasts were crushed firmly to his left side and her left arm wound about his chest while her fingers curled into his hair. He could feel her nose and lips pressed against his neck; each breath, a soft kiss against his skin.

Pam had contorted herself so that virtually every part of her body was in contact with his. He could feel an all too familiar aching, wanting – nearly desperation – in her touch. He felt a surge of confidence that he'd never felt about her before. He was right. She was in love with him, too. There was no mistaking this.

"Pam?"

She lay still in his arms, breath kissing his neck, foot caressing his thighs, arms cradling his torso. He shifted his hips to feel her thigh rubbing against him. Yeah, he was definitely touching her. Jesus, he was so hard it hurt. He couldn't do anything about it – yet – but no way was he cutting this moment short. "I love you so much," he breathed into her hair. He nestled his cheek against the top of her head and wrapped his arms possessively around her, fingertips grazing the thigh that was making him insane. He'd get back to sleep – eventually.

* * *

Mmm. This was the most delicious dream. Felt so real. Pam smiled to herself as she ran her fingers through Jim's hair. Just like she remembered it. But every other time she'd had this dream, he was a little – softer? His stomach felt taut under her leg and his thighs – she slid her foot up and down – sinewy. Not going to wake up. Her body positively resonated with contentment as her toes traced a path up and down Jim's inner thighs.

"Pam?"

"Hmm?"

Her knee pressed firmly against Jim's abdomen as her toes continued their trail.

"Pam! You've really gotta stop that!"

Pam's eyes flew open at the sound of Jim's strangled voice and in an instant she knew she hadn't dreamt any of it. She jumped out of the bed, horrified.

"Oh my God! I am _so_ sorry!"

Pam heard a distinct edge in Jim's voice as he barked, "It's OK" and fled to the bathroom, with barely a glance in her direction. Oh, God, what had she done? Pam struggled to remember what she'd done in her dream. Had she groped him? Whatever it was, it must've been pretty bad because he couldn't even look at her. Shit! How did she _always_ manage to screw things up where he was concerned?

She'd been starting to think she saw some signs that maybe, _maybe_ when this was all over she could ask him for another chance. Talk to him like he'd done at that casino night. Talk about her _feelings_ for him. Admit that she'd loved him for longer than she even knew. But no. Christ, she practically molested him here – while he was still involved with Karen, for God's sake. Even Justin would have to admit that this was pretty slutty. She thought back to his advice less than a week ago, _"Did you think Jim was a sleaze when he told you that he loved you? Oh – of course not? D'ya think maybe you're making Jim's decisions for him by not letting him know how you feel? Maybe he has the right to know and choose what he wants for himself?"_ Well, she let him know all right.

Pam paced about the room, hugging her arms tight about her waist. He was sure taking a long time in there. Probably couldn't figure out what the hell to say to her, either. Suddenly, Jim's cell phone started to ring. His number was in both Ted's & Larissa's files with a big red note to call at any hour if something went wrong. Who else could be calling him on a Sunday morning at 7 a.m.?

No. It was a 212 number.

"Jim, your phone is ringing." Pam knocked on the bathroom door and raised her voice to be heard over the shower. "It's a 212 number. No ID."

"Can you answer it? Tina's from New York. Jon might be using her phone to call me."

"Ok." Pam flipped open the clam shell. "Hello? Jim Halpert's phone."

"Pam? Is this Pam _BEESLY_?"

Pam stood rigidly in stunned silence. How'd they forget that Karen was in New York?

"Hello? Shit, Pam! What are you doing with Jim – at 7 a.m.?"

Yeah. What _was_ she doing with Jim at 7 a.m.? Pam flushed hotly as she remembered the sensuous pleasure of waking up all wrapped around him.

"I – um – well, my dad died of heart failure when I was a teenager and – um – I've had a lot of experience with hospitals and I thought I could help Jim. So I came down, too." It suddenly occurred to Pam that Jim had said he'd told Karen that Jon was with him. She took a deep breath and lied. "I just came over to their room to pick up Jim and Jon to head over to the CCU before the doctors make their rounds."

Pam wracked her brain to think of _something_ to say that would sound like normal conversation. Anything to deflect Karen's attention from the fact that she was in Jim's room at 7 a.m. "Good news, though, since Jim spoke to you. His mom's been moved to a regular room. And his dad seems to have stabilized a bit. They're going to extubate him today. So that's good news."

Pam heard Karen suck in her breath. She didn't sound relieved by Pam's news, she sounded shocked. Had Jim not called her? She had to just get off this damn phone before she said anything else that made things even worse. "Karen, um, Jim isn't quite ready. I'll tell him to call you when he gets out of the bathroom, OK?"

Karen snapped, "Yeah. Sure. You do that."

Pam clicked the phone shut and sank onto the bed, staring blankly at the bathroom door, waiting for Jim to emerge. Suddenly the door opened and Jim rushed out, damp, breathless and disheveled. He was barefoot, bare chested and his scrubs hung low on his hips. He toweled his hair with his left hand and extended the right toward Pam. "Here. I'll talk to him."

Pam handed him the closed phone. "It was – Karen. Oh, God, Jim. I'm really sorry." She rushed out of the room. Jim didn't need an audience for this call and, frankly, Pam couldn't bear to listen while he tried to convince Karen that she really didn't mean anything to him.

* * *

Thanks to **_ahealthyaddiction_** & **_Jaemazing_** for leaving a review last chapter!


	35. You're a Piece of Work, Halpert

**You're a Piece of Work, Halpert**

Jim sank down onto the bed. Feet flat on the floor, he flung himself back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. Great. Just fucking great. How'd he manage to forget that Karen was in New York? He angrily toed the carpet and fisted the rumpled sheets. Shit. He should've listened to Pam and called Karen yesterday. Then he would've been in control of the conversation. And Pam _sure_ _as hell_ wouldn't have been one of the topics he would've brought up.

Jim combed his fingers through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He had to call back. Now. It would only get worse the longer he waited.

He pushed himself up on his right elbow, flipped open the phone and pressed the SEND button once. The number appeared on the screen 212-748-9369. He contemplated the number, his thumb hovering over the SEND button. He grunted softly as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. With a sharp jab of the thumb, he pressed SEND and raised the phone to his ear.

"Jim?"

He cleared his throat. "Um. Yeah, it's me."

"My God! Where are you? What happened to your parents?

Jim tried to gauge what was in Karen's tone of voice. She sounded concerned, but kind of guarded. Edgy. But he'd expected full on pissed. He really wanted to talk to her face to face – didn't want to break up over the phone – so he needed to be careful.

"I – um – I'm at a hospital. My dad had a heart attack in their car and they were in an accident. It's pretty bad. My dad's been on a ventilator since Thursday and mom's got a broken leg and arm and internal injuries. It's been pretty wild, going back and forth all day between their rooms, visiting doctors and all. I haven't called anyone yet, not even my aunts and uncles." _So don't be pissed that I didn't call you _he mentally added.

"Jesus! I am so sorry, Jim. Which hospital? I'll just pack up and come right away. I can be there by eleven."

And there it was. The edge to Karen's voice was gone; now he heard only concern and compassion. He hadn't called Karen yesterday when Pam told him to because he knew she'd react this way. Of course she could. She was his girlfriend and she loved him. She'd want to be there for him. But if she came down she'd find out that he'd been sleeping in the same room with Pam. And Pam would leave. It would not be good. _So_ not good.

"Well – um – actually, we're – We're in DC. You don't need to drive all the way down here, Karen. I wouldn't want to – um – interfere with your weekend with your girlfriends. I know you've been planning it for a long time."

He heard Karen suck in her breath.

"Jesus Christ, Jim! Are you nuts? I can see them some other weekend. I can probably get to D.C. by dinner time." Karen sounded exasperated now.

Fuck! She could _not_ come down. Jim's heart was racing as he looked frantically about the room, as if the lamp or the chair would coach him through this conversation.

"No, really, it's OK. I'll see you in about a week when I come home."

"I want to be there for you _now_, Jim."

Now she was starting to sound angry. Jim began to rub his temples with his left hand while the right gripped the small phone so tightly that his fingers began to feel the strain. His mind worked feverishly to think of the right way to say _Thanks but just don't come down_. But there was no right way to say that to his _girlfriend_, was there?

After a tense pause, Karen spat out, "Oh. I _get_ it. You're a piece of work, Halpert."

"Karen –" Suddenly the phone sounded awfully dead. Jim took it away from his ear and looked at the display. Sure enough, the end call elapsed call time was flashing at him. 1:27, 1:27, 1:27. And then the display reverted to his home screen. She'd hung up on him. He tossed the phone on the bed beside him and buried his face in his hands. Fuck. This he did _not_ need, not on top of all the other shit he had going on in his life right now. He stared glumly at his bare feet on the dark green carpet.

His phone rang and he stared at it with mounting dread. Picked it up from the bed and looked at the face without opening it. 212-748-9369. Karen. Again. He couldn't bring himself to open the phone. God, he really didn't want to do this over the phone. But what was the point in delaying the inevitable? She could be staring in disbelief at her homeless looking boyfriend while he broke up with her or she could be in her best friend's bedroom. She was probably better off with Alicia, really. Grimly, he flipped open the phone. Studied it for a moment before placing it to his ear.

"Hi." His voice sounded more gruff than he'd intended.

"Wow." Karen's voice was waterlogged. "Were you even going to tell me, Jim? _She's_ there with you. _Hundreds_ of miles away. And you didn't even _tell_ me?"

She was absolutely right but evading the truth about Pam had become such a habit that, without even thinking, Jim found himself saying, "C'mon, Karen. Don't do that. Don't make this about that. She was in the office when I got the call. And she's been through all this with her dad. She knows all kinds of medical and cardiac stuff and –"

"Yeah. She told me that." Karen cut in. "That's bullshit, Jim."

She was right, Jim thought to himself. It was total bullshit. But it was all he had. He could hear Karen breathing into the phone, saying nothing, pacing as she waited for him to fill the uncomfortable silence. It nearly always worked. She'd pace and wait until he couldn't bear the quiet anymore and would fill the void with some variant of what he thought she wanted to hear.

But, for the first time, Jim found himself unwilling to salvage the relationship at any cost. He wasn't desperate to appease Karen – but he didn't want the conversation to rupture into an ugly argument, either. He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't set her off, so he said nothing. Just listened. Waited. Began breathing in time with Karen.

"That's total bullshit, Halpert!" Karen abruptly broke the silence. "This isn't about logistics. It's not about her knowing some medical jargon. It's about emotions. About needs. About who you want to be your rock when you're in trouble."

Karen paused. Jim noticed she couldn't bring herself to say _It's about who you love_.

"And you picked _her_. You didn't tell me because, if I come down there, she'll leave."

Absolutely true. It really had been pretty much his only thought every time he considered calling Karen – if she came, Pam would be sure to leave. He didn't consider Karen's feelings at all when he decided not to call her. All he cared about was keeping Pam with him. Was it so awful to want the person who made him feel the best to be with him when everything in his world was dark? Maybe not, but it _was_ pretty low that he'd clung to Karen even after he'd started to realize she could never be that person for him. He'd choose Pam any day over Karen. His heart had leapt at Phyllis' wedding when the filmmakers asked him, _Hypothetically, what would you do if you found out Pam was interested in you?_

But Jim desperately did not want to have this discussion with Karen right now. His mind reeled as he struggled to think of some way to redirect the conversation. He rubbed the stubble on his cheeks and blew out a breath.

"Jim. Say _something_. Just tell me the truth. For once." Karen's voice broke.

Shit. She really loved him. Somehow, Jim had managed to avoid thinking about the fallout of letting her fall in love with him while he tried to make himself feel more than _I'm really glad you're here_.

As much as he knew it had to be done, Jim couldn't bring himself to do this over the phone. He'd been a total prick when he broke up with Katy. He couldn't believe he'd been such an ass to her. Vowed he'd never do that again.

"Karen, you're really great –"

"Fuck you, Halpert!"

Wow. He'd never heard Karen this angry before.

"I _know_ I'm really great. _You_ are not. You've been in love with her the whole time you were with me. I never had a chance, did I? You were using me from our first date."

"Karen, I never meant to –"

"Bullshit, Jim! You meant to, all right! "_I'd really rather you didn't watch the show, Karen_." she intoned in a sing song voice. "_I did goofy stuff I'd rather forget_." and let's not forget "_I'm with you now_." And I listened! What a fucking idiot! I listened to you." Karen choked back a sob. "Oh, you knew what you were doing all right, buddy."

There really was nothing Jim could say to defend himself. Everything, everything she said was true. He idly picked at a loose thread on the comforter as he waited for the assault to continue.

"Did it really never occur to you that, at some point, my resolve would break down and I'd watch? Alicia has the whole DVD set – and she recorded this season. She made me watch most of it last night. Christ, Jim, you _never, ever_ looked at me like you looked at her when she gave you that damn can of coke. And the first time we made love –" she interrupted herself to bitterly editorialize, "I guess I should say the first time we _screwed_ – you were about to blow me off. Admit it. If she'd reacted differently to your "I've sort of started seeing someone." You would've called me and said, "Hey, Fillipelli. I'm sorry but something's come up." You would have, wouldn't you?"

Yeah, he'd pretty much fucked Karen's brains out that night. She'd moaned happily in the morning that she'd never thought he was such an _animal_. Left him feeling ashamed of himself because he knew that on that night he'd used her. He'd never known anger could stimulate so much sexual energy.

"I thought you wanted me. But no. You were just afraid to face her alone. It all made sense after I saw you tell her you loved her at that casino thing. I was your second-rate consolation prize when you really wanted _her_. You've been waiting all this time for her to call you back. And she's too fucking stupid to see it! God! You probably spent most of your nights with me pretending that I was her. You never cared about me, Jim!" Karen choked back a sob. "You used me."

Jim flushed in embarrassment, in anger, in frustration. "Are you kidding me, Karen? You could spend all those months with me and think I don't care about you _at all_? Come on. I took care of you when you were sick. I learned to cook _nouveau Mediterranean cuisine_ with you because you liked doing that on Sundays. We used to talk all night long – even before we had _something to discuss_.

"Karen, I didn't mean to – You are so great – and I, I know that. I like you a lot. I tried to love you. Really, I did. I kept thinking that if I waited long enough, it would just happen. Or if I worked harder, I could make it happen."

"Well, that says it all, I guess." Karen replied bitterly. "Thanks a lot, Jim. Am I _that_ unlovable?"

"No, Karen. No, you're not. You're great. You're just – not her."

"Well, you know what, Jim? I'm done with that. I didn't tell you but I'm up here for job interviews. I wasn't gonna tell you until I had an offer. A test, I guess. To see how you'd react. The way I saw it, you'd have four options. You could ask me to stay. Say you'd go with me." Jim could imagine Karen, sitting on Alicia's bed, poking one finger at a time as she angrily worked her way through the list. "Offer to try the long distance thing for a while. Or say, 'Adios, amiga!' Sounds like you'll tell me not to let the door hit me in the ass on the way out. You're a prick, Jim."

Karen had hardly paused for breath in the whole diatribe. Now that she'd stopped, he could hear her crying softly. She must've been thinking about this for a long, long time. All those moments of doubt that he thought he'd hidden so well – apparently, not so much.

"I'm done, Jim." She spoke softly. "You know, there are guys out there who'd think they're lucky to have me. Who'd want _me_ and not spend all their time pining after someone else. And I deserve that. I don't know what ever possessed me to move to Scranton for a guy I hardly knew. I don't even know who I am – I don't like the person I see in the mirror anymore."

Jim could almost see Karen lift her chin as she sniffled. "I think I'll get an offer from one of those interviews. And, even if I don't, I'm moving to New York. I am _not_ staying in Scranton, I can tell you that."

"Karen, I'm –"

"No. That's it, Jim. I'm done with you. Really."

The phone went silent again. He looked at the display. It blinked at him. 3:37, 3:37, 3:37. Wow. He really was a total bastard. It stunned him momentarily that she'd used nearly exactly the same phrases as his father had to describe his actions. Of course his dad didn't call him a prick, but that didn't change anything – he totally was.

Because, after listening to Karen's tear soaked condemnation, he did feel real remorse. But he also felt a surge of relief.


	36. Love Is an Action

**Love Is An Action**

Jim stared vacantly at the phone in his hand. He flipped it shut with a crisp snap and rolled it about in his hands for a moment. Prying it open with his thumb, he pressed SEND and then OK to look at the call log.

RECEIVED CALL

[No Name]  
Number 212-748-9369  
Time 7:03am  
Date Mar 18, 07  
Duration 3m37s

Holy crap. He'd never have imagined this after those agonizing all night discussions about his feelings – that ending the whole damn thing could take less than five minutes. Or that Karen would do it for him. Well, not that she did it _for_ him. But the few times he'd let his mind wander far enough ahead to contemplate this conversation, he'd imagined Karen tearfully but tenaciously clinging to the relationship. Instead, she'd tearfully and tenaciously clung to her _self-respect_. He had to admire that. In fact, her self-confidence and self-respect were the things that attracted Jim to Karen in the first place. So unlike Pam – and last summer a very bitter Jim had been looking for the anti-Pam.

But Karen hadn't been so self-confident lately. Over the last six months, she'd started to lose that self-assurance – especially in the weeks since those all nighters. Wow. He'd had the same effect on Karen that Roy had on Pam. That was just – pretty appalling, actually. Shit. What if, deep down, he was really no better than Roy? He'd always told himself that, if he could just have a chance, he'd make Pam happy … simply because he was a better man.

Jim absently picked at the blue cotton drawstring that lay on his lap and began to roll it, like a little jelly roll, all the way to the waistband of his scrubs. Released it and watched it unwind and plop back onto his thigh. Sighed.

He used to get angry that Pam wouldn't see what a great guy he was. What a load of crap – he wasn't a nice guy. At all. What kind of guy encourages a girl who's crushing on him to follow him to dead-end job in a boring little town she's never even seen … where she'll know _no one_ but a handful of coworkers … just so he wouldn't be alone when he faced the girl who rejected him? What kind of guy has sex night after night with one girl while he's thinking of another – struggling to blot out images of soft auburn waves and laughing green eyes while a beautiful brown haired, brown eyed girl murmurs that she loves him?

Oh, yeah. That would be a prick. Just like Karen said.

Fuck. He was tired of being angry with himself. Years. It'd been _years_. First, for falling in love with a girl who was totally off limits. Then for being too chicken shit to say anything to her. Then for _telling_ her and blowing everything they had. For leaving. For waiting, waiting, waiting for that call that never came. For telling Karen to take the job. For ignoring the look in Pam's eyes as he tried to convince her – to convince himself – that he'd moved on. Most of all, for trying so damned hard and still not being able to really do it – to move on.

Damn it! All he'd tried to do was get on with his life when the girl he'd loved for three years told him that she didn't want him. What was so wrong with that?

He'd never meant to use Karen. Well, not after that first salvo … _And Scranton... it's not that bad. So, if they offer you a job there, I think you should take it._ Yeah, that was totally self-serving bullshit.

But after that, he'd tried hard – so hard – to do everything he was supposed to do. To do right by Karen. Once she started sleeping over, he dropped out of his Saturday morning basketball games so he wouldn't leave her alone. He counted to a hundred, gripping the edge of his desk, when he felt the magnetic pull to reception. Took her out for lunch more times than he could really afford. Went out for fancy dinners when all he wanted was to throw on some sweats, crack a Yuengling and watch the Sixers. He learned Karen's taste in music, movies, food, flowers. When he realized he just couldn't remember those things, he wrote them down, kept a cheat sheet. She liked her sex a little bit rough and, even though it didn't come naturally to Jim, never really got into his comfort zone, he learned to satisfy her. He _definitely_ satisfied her.

So, yeah. What exactly _did_ he have to feel bad about? He'd tried every tack to fall in love with Karen; he'd done absolutely everything in his power to turn away from Pam. He'd never done anything inconsiderate to Karen. He'd just deluded himself – and her, of course – into thinking that, with enough time, he'd inevitably fall in love with her. And that was sad for everyone involved, but it didn't make him a horrible person.

Jim jumped up and threw on the Phillies T-shirt that lay on the bed beside him. Switched the scrubs for jeans and shoved his feet into socks and tennis shoes. The only inevitability in his life had rushed out that door ten minutes ago and he was going to find her.

* * *

Pam strode purposefully into the cavernous surgical waiting room, quickly slipping past the reception desk. She couldn't begin to explain to the volunteer hostesses that she wasn't here with a patient and didn't need one of those light up, vibrating pagers, thank you very much.

The room was sparsely populated – only fifteen people or so – but it was only 7:15. It would fill up soon enough. A lot of people were probably still in pre-op with their loved one, waiting for them to be wheeled away to the surgical table.

Pam paused in the middle of the room to look around. Sturdy, round cherry tables were scattered throughout, each with four chairs. Identical tan and mauve upholstered armchairs were aligned perfectly along the walls. A large monitor listed patient numbers and statuses.

0703917 In surgery  
0703918 In surgery  
0703925 Post op  
0703930 Pre op  
0703931 In surgery

The board looked like the arrivals/departures monitors at the airport. Hospitals sure didn't have anything like this when Pam's dad was sick.

Several televisions were mounted high on the walls, near the ceiling. They played various morning talk shows and news programs. Thank God the sound was muted. Pam didn't think she could stomach Regis Philbin just now.

Pam turned toward the corner at the far back of the room. Totally unoccupied. Not a soul within thirty feet. There was no view of the patient status board from that corner so, if she was lucky, no one would sit there for a while and she could be alone with her thoughts.

Pam sat stiffly in one of the armchairs along the wall. This would be perfect, actually. If she broke down and cried, no one would intrude. Every visitor to this room brought their own tensions and worries, spent their minutes or hours in their own anxious little bubble, worrying about someone they loved. No one would even take note of a few tears.

Coming to the surgical waiting room was a stroke of genius. Jim would never think to look for her here. He probably didn't even know this waiting room existed. So she was safe. Pam really, _really_ didn't want to see him for a while. Even if it meant she was miserable and alone, Pam wanted to postpone hearing that Karen was on her way – because she'd have to leave before Karen arrived. And the last few days had been fantastic. Not that she'd wish this on anyone, much less Jim. But being able to love him these last few days … Pam quietly brushed a tear from her cheek and shuddered a shaky breath. She always loved him, but this was different. It was such a relief to be able to show it – even if he thought she was play acting. And being his support in this family crisis – well, it felt like this was where she was meant to be, doing exactly what she was meant for. Last May, she'd felt totally adrift; she'd spent the better part of a year finding the missing parts of herself. She was proud of how she'd grown, but something still was missing as long as Jim wasn't a part of her life.

In one of their chapel talks, her father told her, "Pammie, remember love is an action. Being in love isn't something you _are_. It's something you _do_." Resting her elbows on her knees, Pam buried her face in her hands and let the tears fall. Being in love with Jim for the past year had been frustrating, depressing and lonely. But _loving _Jim, nurturing him, for the past few days left Pam feeling gratified, satisfied, fulfilled. How could she go back to the way things were before?

* * *

Jim rushed down the corridor to the sitting area at the end of the floor. The Walker Man sat at a table with a cup of coffee and a bagel before him.

"Um. Hey, John. Have you seen Pam?" Jim's voice cracked just a bit on her name.

"No, I haven't, Jim." The old man's brow furrowed in concern. "Has something happened to your parents?"

"No. No, nothing like that. I just need to find her. Thanks, John."

Jim rushed back to their room and grabbed his phone to call her.

_Lean on me, when you're –_

Jim threw his phone down onto the bed. Shit! He had to get over to the CCU before his dad came out from the sedation. The nurse told him last night that his dad would be freaked out when he woke up and felt the huge tube forcing air down his throat. And he had to check on his mom first. God damn! She had to disappear _now_? He didn't have time to play hide and seek with Pam. He'd have time to check either the chapel or the cafeteria on the way over – but not both. Probably go with the chapel…

* * *

Pam's stomach was beginning to grumble. Great. She didn't grab her purse when she ran out the door, so she had no money. And it was only 7:30 – too soon to go back to the room. If she had half a brain, she would've grabbed one of those bagels the hospitality staff set out every morning in the sitting room at the end of the hall.

Pam wandered over to the courtesy coffee station. She wasn't a big fan of powdered creamer in her tea, but it would have to do for now. As she approached the counter, Pam spied a box of cellophane wrapped packets. Yes – honey graham squares! She dropped a teabag into a styrofoam cup and watched the water run clear into the cup and seep out of the teabag a light tan. When the tea was dark enough, she stirred in some creamer and grabbed four – no, six – graham cracker packets. She didn't care if it did make her look like a hog. She was hungry. And nervous. Pam always snacked when she was nervous.

The small round table nearby was still vacant, so Pam set her tea and graham crackers on it. She sat down and tore open one of the packets, extracting the graham cracker and nibbling in from the corner. She remembered Jim's laughter the first time he'd seen her eat crackers like this. They were out for lunch at the Glider Diner and she'd ordered beef vegetable soup, which arrived with an assortment of crackers. Saltines, melba toast, captain's wafers … She'd been thoroughly enjoying a sesame stick when she heard Jim snort. She looked up to see him leaning on his elbow, burying his laughter behind his palm.

"What?"

Jim's eyes glittered and his shoulders shook as he laughed silently at her.

"What!"

"Don't you ever shove the whole cracker in your mouth? Or just bite into it – like a normal person?"

She'd reared back in mock affront.

"I mean, really? Pam – you look like a hamster. All that delicate nibbling!"

Pam smiled as she recalled arriving at her desk the next morning to find a clear plastic hamster exercise ball balanced precariously on her keyboard – filled with packets of crackers which Jim had obviously stolen from the Glider.

A tear splattered onto the table by her pile of grahams.

* * *

Jim hurried through the corridors of the hospital. Pam wasn't in the chapel, so he'd just have to talk to her later. He had to talk to his mom, maybe touch base with the nurse and get up to his dad. So many people he needed to talk to all at once. Well, he'd just quickly check on his mom and get upstairs to his dad.

He entered his mom's room to find her asleep in her bed, breakfast tray in front of her, food untouched. Real food – sort of. Certainly not a cup of broth like yesterday. Real food – that wasn't cut. For a woman who had only one functional hand. Could _nothing_ go smoothly for him this morning?

Jim sighed as he scooted the visitor's chair close to his mom. He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone and send a text to Pam.

_Call me. Please?_

As he pressed SEND, Jim noticed his mom was beginning to stir. He set the phone on her tray table and began to lightly stroke her good arm, speaking in a loud whisper, "Hey, Mom. How are you?"

Larissa's eyes fluttered open.

Please be normal. Please be normal.

"Jim." Her voice was weak but the look in her eyes was his mother!

"I feel like hell, Jim. How's your dad?" As she spoke, Larissa's eyes filled with tears and she took her son's hand into her own. "I can't remember anything you told me yesterday. Is he ok?"

Thank God she was herself again!

"Yeah, Mom, he's doing a lot better. They're going to remove the breathing tube this morning. They think he's strong enough to breathe on his own now."

Larissa nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek. Jim reached over and tenderly brushed it away with his thumb.

"It's good, Mom." As Jim spoke, he began to cut the rubbery looking omelet into bite sized pieces. "This is really, _really_ good. But I have to go upstairs and be with him this morning. The nurse said patients are always freaked out and scared when they wake up with the breathing tube. They want me to be up there when he wakes up." When he finished cutting, Jim laid the fork with the handle angled toward his mother's left side. "Are you gonna be able to eat by yourself?"

Larissa nodded urgently. "Yes. Yes, of course. Your father needs you. You go up there right now."

"OK. But, Mom, one more thing. You have to _promise_ me that you won't try to get out of bed today."

Larissa gave Jim a weak smile. "Jim, honey, are you crazy? I feel like shit. Why on earth would I even try to move?"

Jim laughed. "Well, yest-" No. Don't even go there. "Yes. You're absolutely right. I'll stop down later to see you after he's awake, ok?" Jim stood over his mother and bent down to give her a light kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. "You need anything before I go?"

"No, Jim. Just go! Just – tell your father I love him, ok?"

Jim took his mother's hand into his own. "Absolutely, I will. I'll be back in a few hours, ok?"

Jim hesitated in the doorway. "If I can, I'll come back at lunch time to make sure your food is cut up. If I don't get back in time, you ask the food service girl to cut it for you, ok?"

Larissa groaned in mock frustration. "Yes, Jim. Now, go!"

With one more backward glance toward his mom, Jim rushed into the corridor.

* * *

Pam stared glumly at the pile of debris in front of her. She gathered the crumpled cellophane wrappers into her hands and stuffed them all into the styrofoam cup. Was it safe to go back yet? What did Jim and Karen talk about? Was Karen on her way down to DC right now?

Out of the corner of her eye, Pam spotted the flashing pager for the group that was sitting near her. There were four of them. The young woman was about Pam's age, she guessed. Actually, she kind of looked like Pam, too. She had a wavy auburn ponytail and they had the same build. Pam even thought she had the same sweater hanging in her closet back in Scranton. The woman was accompanied by two middle aged women and one man. All of them looked grim and fatigued.

The young woman stared for a moment at the red lights flashing on the big plastic disc in her hand. She jumped up, waved the others back into their seats and rushed to the reception desk.

A moment later, she returned with the surgeon in tow. The doctor looked as somber as the family as she motioned to a tiny meeting room on the opposite wall. Oh. This couldn't be good.

A few moments after the group disappeared behind the door, Pam heard a shriek. She could hear muffled voices but couldn't tell what anyone was saying. Pam found herself watching the clock on the wall. Four minutes passed before the door opened and the surgeon stepped out, softly closing the door behind her. Another six minutes went by and the door opened again. The man and one of the older women clung to each other and the other older woman supported the younger. Her daughter, Pam guessed. Pam felt like she could touch the daughter's anguish as the family passed her. "He's only thirty. I never even told him that we're having a baby. How can he be gone? Mom, what am I going to do?" She choked on her sobs has her mother held her tight, guiding her through the room, past staring eyes, averted eyes, tearful eyes. Pam watched the group until they turned into the corridor outside the surgical waiting area.

Pam stared, shaken, at the cup of wrappers that she still held in her hand. This couple was only a couple of years older than she and Jim were. Pam tried to put herself in that young widow's shoes. What would she do if she suddenly, unexpectedly, lost Jim forever? She wasn't going to be like that girl; she wasn't going to risk regretting for the rest of her life that she missed her chance to tell Jim how she felt.

Pam poked at the cellophane wrappers in the cup, listening to them crinkle. She stood up, ready to head back to their room. This wasn't the time to tell Jim that she was in love with him. For now, she'd stay as long as he needed her, help him through this crisis, show her love with her actions. And right now, she'd go back to the room to wash up so she'd be ready the instant Jim called for help.

But, when he came back to Scranton, there'd be no more waiting. As soon as she could get him alone, she'd confess.

* * *

Thanks to my new reviewers: _**TolkienkookAD**_, _**BrittneyO'H**_ & _**Renatta Weiss**_!


	37. Breathe

**Breathe**

Jim glanced at his watch. 10:45. Where _was_ that damn doctor? A respiratory therapist named Alisha had come right at 8:00 to administer a spontaneous breathing trial. Alisha had been really great. His dad was getting pretty agitated until she came. She took his hand between hers and explained exactly what would happen in the test. She talked to his dad, not to Jim – and she talked to him like an _adult_. Jim never would've imagined he'd appreciate something as simple as _that_, but he sure did now. By the time Alisha was ready to start the test, his father was calm. In fact, he was relaxed as long as she was in the room.

The test went smoothly as she progressively reduced the level of support Ted received from the ventilator. At 8:35 Alisha declared the trial a success and said Ted could now breathe on his own. The next step, she said, was for the anesthesiologist to come in and remove the tube. Ted nodded in vehement agreement when Alisha explained to Jim that breathing through the ventilator tube was like breathing through a straw. She set the vent on low to give Ted a little assistance while he waited for the doctor.

By the time Alisha had finished her explanation, answered Jim's questions, and gathered her things to go, it was nearly nine o'clock. On her way out the door, she'd congratulated Ted again and said the doctor should come by shortly.

And they'd been waiting ever since. The minutes had stretched to an hour, an hour and a half, nearly two. Ted started to become agitated about fifteen minutes after Alisha left. Jim watched his father's mood degenerate from impatience to hot anger and then something that approached sheer panic. He tried to distract him by reading or making small talk but neither tactic worked. Of _course_ they didn't work. How could he even have thought that listening to a funny story or inane chit-chat could _possibly_ make his dad forget that _he had_ a rather large tube jammed into his mouth and down his throat? Or that he was quite literally chained to his bed?

Jim watched his father's slow, feeble maneuvers. He had neither the strength nor the freedom of movement to shift his body more than an inch or so in any direction. He was restrained, his wrists wrapped in thick, quilted bands that were tied to the bedrails. They didn't look uncomfortable – sort of like beer cozies wrapped around his wrists – but his dad fidgeted against them constantly. Jim wished he could remove the restraints but Nelani said they were to protect his father from pulling out the vent tube or his IVs. So, he watched his dad shifting around, blanching with each movement of his head or shoulders, finally sagging back against the pillow in resignation.

"Dad?"

Ted shifted his gaze to Jim's direction.

Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, Jim offered, "I could call the nurses to shift you to a more comfortable position."

Ted listlessly shook his head. No.

Jim picked up Mort from the tray table beside him. He hesitated just a moment. "I could read to you again?"

Ted again shook his head, nearly imperceptibly as he turned his face away from Jim.

Damn. There had to be _something_ he could do. What were some of the things Pam did for his parents? She'd been doing little things all the time. Oh –

"Massage you with some lotion? Your skin looks kinda dry."

Without even turning to look at him, Ted shook his head yet again.

A hint of desperation in his voice, Jim asked, "Is there _anything_ I can do to make you feel better?"

Ted slowly turned to fully face Jim, eyes wide and imploring.

"What can I do for you, Dad? Tell you what – I'll get a pen and paper so you can write it."

Ted narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed in frustration. His expression clearly said _You've got to be kidding me_ as he impatiently gestured toward the tube in his mouth.

Jesus, he was fucking clueless. Of course there was only one thing his father wanted – and Jim couldn't do it for him.

"I know, Dad. I know. That's gotta be incredibly uncomfortable." Jim stopped short at the irritated expression on his father's face. Holy shit – had he _really_ just used that patronizing sing-song voice like one of the nurses? "Ok. Not helpful. Look, Dad, I know you want that thing out but we have to wait for the doctor."

His father's eyes narrowed as he fixed Jim with a look of utter contempt. It was the exact same look his mother had given him right before she barked, _You aren't helping me at all. Just get the hell out!_

He was probably thinking what a waste it was to have his younger son with him. Probably wondering how he'd ever ended up with such a worthless jackass for a son. All Jim could think about was his conversation with Jon about a week ago. _Jim, you gotta cut this shit out. You can't hang up every time Dad answers the phone. He's right. You are being a jackass … He's right. You are being a jackass … He's right. You are being a jackass…_

This sitting here with nothing to _do_ was making him crazy.

"Dad?

"Hey, Dad, I'm gonna just go see your nurse and find out if she can't tell us anything about when the doctor's gonna come, ok?"

Without waiting for a response, Jim jumped up from his seat and rushed to the nursing station. Pam wouldn't want him to have an attitude with the nurses – it wasn't _their_ fault the doctor was two damn hours late – so he took a deep breath as he approached the desk.

"Nelani? Do you have any idea when –"

Suddenly a shrill, piercing alarm rang out. Jim glanced about, startled, as Nelani rushed into his father's room.

"What's wrong?" He followed quickly behind the nurse but stopped, aghast, at the door to his father's room. His dad was coughing, struggling for breath – and there was nothing in his mouth. The ventilator tube dangled from his right hand, looking gruesome and alive. The tube was covered in a mottled, slimy mucus, which also dripped down his father's chin and onto his hospital gown. And it waved about in tiny motions, jiggling with each puff of air. A small balloon was inflated at the end of the tube. Holy God, had his father torn anything in his throat when he ripped that thing out?

Nelani moved quickly, attaching a clear mask and tubing to a valve behind the bed. Jim followed her glance up at the monitor over his father's bed and watched in horror as the O2 number dropped. 89, no 87, 85. By the time Jim tore his eyes away from the screen, Nelani had placed the mask over his father's face and secured the rubber band behind his head. She then disabled the alarm on the ventilator.

"Ted." Nelani spoke in a voice that was somehow warm and strong and authoritative all at once. "Ted, look at me."

His father turned toward Nelani, eyes wide with fear. She took his hand into her own and gently stroked his arm. Now that he looked closely at his dad – holy shit – his face was kind of ashen and fingertips were actually _bluish_.

"You feel like you can't get any air." It wasn't a question.

Ted nodded in agreement as his chest rose and fell in rapid, tiny bursts.

"I've put an oxygen mask on you Ted. That will help." Lightly brushing his cheek, she continued, "Now we're going to work together, ok? Can you breathe with me, Ted?"

Ted quickly shook his head, no.

"Yes you can, Ted. Watch me and breathe with me."

Nelani began to breathe slowly through her mouth in an exaggerated motion. As she inhaled, her chest expanded and she tilted her head back slightly. With each breath out, her chest collapsed, her shoulders relaxed and her chin dropped. She held Ted's hand firmly as she encouraged him to breathe with her. Jim watched in fascination as the nurse made a little drama of each breath, inhaling slowly and holding for a moment before she exhaled.

Whatever she was doing, it was working; his dad wasn't so panicked and he'd begun to breathe a bit more normally. Thank God. The O2 reading on the monitor stopped falling. Nelani stayed by Ted's side, breathing slowly, all the while maintaining eye contact except for brief moments when her gaze flashed to the monitor. When the O2 number stabilized at 90, Nelani squeezed Ted's hand.

"That's perfect, Ted. Do you think you can keep breathing just like that?"

Ted nodded weakly.

"Good. Your son's here, Ted." Nelani nodded toward the door. "Would you like Jim to sit with you?"

Jim felt his breath catch and his heart pound as he awaited his father's response. _Don't say no. Please don't say no._

Ted looked directly into Jim's eye for a long moment, as if considering his options.

_Oh shit, Dad, just don't say no._

Ted nodded emphatically, yes, as he shakily lifted his free hand in Jim's direction. His hand dropped limp onto his lap.

Nelani nodded her head. "Good. Jim, can you breathe with your dad for a minute? I'm going to get the doctor."

"Sure, Nelani."

As the nurse rushed past him in the doorway, he whispered, "How did he _do_ this? How could he get that tube out with those restraints?"

Nelani shrugged her shoulders, "They manage sometimes. When they're determined enough, patients can yank the tube." She nodded her head toward Ted. "Keep him as calm as you can. Breathing is a struggle right now."

Jim glanced up at the monitor. The O2 was holding steady at 90. That was better than 85, but didn't Pam say 90 was the bare minimum? That anything lower was really bad? He stepped quickly to his father's bedside, fighting the panic he could feel rising in his throat. Shit. His dad could see it. He had to get a grip so he could help his dad stay calm. Ok, he could do this. He could.

"Dad?

"You with me, Dad?" Oh, thank God. He sounded more in control than he felt. He took his father's hand securely in his own and began to breathe just like Nelani had done a moment before. His dad tried his best to breathe in time with him but Jim could tell something wasn't working right. It was like his dad just couldn't get the air into his lungs.

"-self extubated. No signs of stridor but his O2 sat's under ninety."

Jim squeezed his dad's hand and stepped away from the bed as Nelani strode into the room with – Doogie Howser? Holy hell, this was the _doctor_? The guy was definitely younger than Jim. No way was he a _doctor_.

Without saying as much as a word to his father, Doogie inserted the tips of the stethoscope into his ears and leaned close to listen to his heart and lungs. Lifting his shoulder, he slipped the disc under his dad's back and listened again. Straightening up, he said, "Mr. Halpert, we're going to give you something to help open up your lung passageways so it will be easier for you to breathe. It should give you some relief very quickly."

Then, without asking if his dad or he had any questions, Doogie started for the door. He turned to Nelani and said in a clipped voice, "Get an RT up here right away with a nebulized epinephrine treatment. 5 milliliters of 1:10,000 epinephrine through the mask. After that, 5 milligrams of nebulized Ventolin up to three times as needed to keep the airway open. Call me if there is any sign of stridor." And then he was out the door.

Wow. That whole _heartless cardiologist_ thing that Pam had told him about – it started when these guys were _residents_? That was just – pretty hard to believe.

Nelani nodded. "Got it." She patted his dad's hand and said, "Ted, we'll have a respiratory therapist here in just a few minutes. You really will feel better after a breathing treatment." Then she briskly headed out the door toward the nursing station.

Ted turned toward Jim with a fearful expression. "Don't leave." he whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Jim pulled up a chair to the bedside. "I'm not going _anywhere_, Dad. I'll stay here as long as you need me."

Nodding in silence, Ted set his left hand, palm up, on his thigh. Jim gently laid his right hand atop and wrapped his fingers loosely about his father's hand. He watched his father's eyes drift closed. Man, he looked so frail. Kind of like Jim's grandfather had looked in the last months before he _died._

Jim thought back to the summer before his junior year at Millersville University. The family had decided that his grandmother couldn't take care of his grandfather anymore and they'd placed him in a nursing home. No one liked the idea but they all knew that they'd lose grandma, too, if something wasn't done soon.

They'd set up a visiting schedule for everyone who lived close enough so grandpa would get at least a few visits every week. Jim was on every other Wednesday. As much as he loved his grandfather, he hated going on those visits. The place had this horrible, kind of chemical, antiseptic smell. Unkempt people nodded off in wheelchairs just parked in the hallways. His grandfather was in a room with four beds – so absolutely no privacy.

The dread built up in Jim every time he made the drive to Abington Manor. He had to steel himself as he walked in the door and signed the visitor log. He watched his feet the whole way to grandpa's room, so he wouldn't have to meet the vacant gaze of any of the pathetic patients who lined the walls. Whenever the evening was cool enough, he whisked his grandpa to the shade of the courtyard, just to get them both out of that horrible, grim environment. It killed him that _that_ had become his grandfather's whole world.

Longest summer of Jim's life. Well, one of the two longest summers of his life.

So, is that what they'd have to do with Jim's parents? Put them in a rehab/nursing facility for a few months? No way could either of them care for the other – not in the condition they'd be in when they got out of the hospital. Neither Jim nor Jon could afford take off work for a couple of months to live with and care for them. And he didn't think his parents could afford to have a nurse stay at the house.

Jim set his forearm against the bedrail and groaned as he leaned his forehead against it. Ted's eye's fluttered open and he turned to face Jim.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to wake you."

Ted shook his head. "No. _I'm_ sorry." His voice was so weak Jim could hardly hear him.

"Sorry for what?"

Ted struggled for breath, "For before. I'm sorry for before." With the slightest squeeze of Jim's hand, he closed his eyes and laid back on the pillow, spent. He was asleep before Jim could even respond.

* * *

Many apologies for the long delay since the last post. We're doing some house remodeling and life was just a bit overwhelming there for a while.


	38. Famous Pam, Infamous Pam

**Famous Pam, Infamous Pam**

Larissa Halpert sat in the oversized aqua vinyl recliner, idly pushing chicken tetrazzini about her plate. It was impossible to find a comfortable position, with her right leg wrapped in inches of bandages and her casted right arm slung close to her belly. She was constantly aware the swelling in her foot and the incision that ran up her abdomen; most of the time she wouldn't say they hurt exactly – but she felt a constant throbbing sensation.

A right hander, Larissa really wasn't terribly proficient at eating left-handed. And, even when the food first arrived – when it was at its _best – _it wasn't very good; it hardly inspired her to _dig in. _ So now she was left to watch the gravy – or sauce or whatever the hell it was – cool into a thoroughly unpleasant yellowish, gelatinous mass that, had her stomach not been a roiling, acidic mess, _still_ would have been unappetizing. Glancing up at the clock on the wall to her right, she set down her fork and began biting her thumb nail. 12:18. She hadn't heard from Jim since he left four hours ago and she was feeling thoroughly unsettled.

The morning had been hellaciously long, with little to distract her from worrying about Ted. Her roommate was discharged early in the morning and no one had been moved in to replace her. So, aside from the busy nurses and technicians who bustled in and out of the room, Larissa had no one to talk to. Not that her roommate had talked very much. The woman was strangely tense and seemed to regard Larissa with a guarded apprehension. Truth be told, she was a bit relieved to see the woman go. She hoped her next roommate would be friendlier.

Closing her eyes, Larissa pressed her good hand against her forehead and leaned against the tray table. No. That was no good. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Ted – slumped against the steering wheel, his foot heavy on the accelerator, as the trees, cars and asphalt spun wildly in the world outside their car. She heard herself screaming hoarsely and then everything went black. It was the same every time.

Larissa leaned back in exhaustion. Even without the nightmare visions, it was impossible to sleep in this place. It seemed every 25 minutes someone barged in to take her blood. Or her blood pressure. To do a test or give her medicine. To get her to sit up. The only time they didn't come was when she pressed the button for help with the bed pan.

Oh, where, where, _where_ was Jim? If she didn't get _some_ news about Ted, she'd go out of her mind. He was the best part of her life, even after all these years. _Especially_ after all these years. He had to be ok.

Rolling her fingertips toward her palm, Larissa scrutinized her nails for something to gnaw on. Two fingers already had stinging, raw bloody lines where she'd bitten her nails down to the quick. Ted would _not_ approve. He'd given up saying anything years ago, but Larissa was well aware of what her husband thought of her nervous habit.

She wished she could see him for a few minutes, even if they couldn't talk. Just to prove to herself that he was really alive.

12:29. This day was going to be interminable. Nothing on the TV worth –

_You are so beautiful to me.  
Can't you see?  
You're everything I hoped for,  
Everything I need –_

Larissa recoiled in her seat from shock as Jim's cell phone skittered about her tray table, ringing loudly. The caller ID simply said PAM.

Larissa reached for the phone with her left hand, clumsily trying to pry it open with her thumb. Damn! That wasn't going to work. Jutting out her chin, she pressed the phone against it and popped the clam shell open.

"Hello."

"Oh! Hi. Mrs. Halpert?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Um –" Pam trailed off, as if she couldn't decide what to say next. "I – Um – I didn't expect you to answer, I guess. Is Jim there with you?"

"No, he's not. He must have forgotten his phone when he visited this morning. He's been with his father." Larissa had no idea what to say to Pam, either. She'd never had a conversation with the girl. Their dialogues never extended beyond basic call transfers on the rare occasions when Larissa called Jim at work. "Oh, yeah." Pam's voice sounded strained and then she fell silent. Larissa watched the second hand sweep across the face of the clock as she waited for Pam to continue.

"I'm sorry to bother you. Did I, um, did I wake you?"

"No, I was sitting here trying to work up an appetite for this chicken tetrazzini. But it's not happening."

"Oh." Larissa listened to Pam breathing into the phone but she just didn't have the energy to fill the silence for her. Finally, Pam spoke again. "So, um, how is Mr. Halpert doing?"

Hot tears filled Larissa's eyes. "I don't know." Her breath caught in her throat as Larissa tried to speak calmly. "I haven't heard from Jim since he left this morning."

After a long hollow pause, Pam hesitantly asked, "Mrs. Halpert, would you, um … Would you like me to come over and have lunch with you? I could pick up something for you at the cafeteria. Their food is actually pretty good – especially the soup."

Larissa looked down at her disheveled gown, bruises and swollen fingers and toes. She felt sure that, if she had to spend the rest of the afternoon alone, she'd about have a nervous breakdown – but she'd never even met this girl. Did she really want to meet her like this?

Pam's voice sounded a bit more confident and warmer as she continued, "You must be going crazy worrying all by yourself. I could bring some music for you – Jim brought a few of your CDs – and keep you company. That is, if you'd want company?"

Nodding silently as she blinked back her tears, Larissa opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out.

"I'm sorry." Pam sounded unsure of herself again. "You're probably too tired for visitors. I don't want to impose –"

"No!" The two women simultaneously drew a sharp breath, both shocked at the intensity of Larissa's outburst. Larissa continued more quietly, "Not at all, Pam. I'm just a little – It would be – I'd be glad to have your company this afternoon."

"Oh! Great!" Pam sounded noticeably relieved. "I'll stop by with some of your stuff and then get us some lunch. I'll be over in a few minutes."

Larissa snapped the phone shut and set it back on the small table. So. She was going to meet the Famous Pam. _Infamous_ Pam. For all the amusing stories Jim had told over the years featuring his hijinks with Pam, Larissa had always held the girl in a bit of contempt. The little bit she saw of the documentary didn't help, either. Her son was no poker player; he wore his heart on his sleeve. The girl had to have known that he was in love with her. No one could be _that_ blind unless it was willful. It was just wrong the way she strung him along for over two years.

On the other hand, Larissa was very much aware of her own biases. She knew her hostility was grounded in maternal protectiveness. No mother wants to watch her child ache for years and years. If twenty-five years of teaching history had made her sure of anything, it was that no controversy is never entirely the fault of one party. She knew her son well; without a doubt, she could envision him reeling in his emotions just enough that Pam would question what she was seeing.

Actually, Larissa had seen him do _exactly that_ once before. When Jim was in college, the family went to Ohio for a large Peterson family reunion. Her cousin from California had a daughter about Jim's age. Melissa was pretty, funny, and outgoing. She played on the girls' basketball team at her college. Jim and Melissa immediately clicked with each other. They spent the first day and a half flirting and teasing each other.

Then, at dinner, Jim had asked Larissa, _So, Mom – how exactly am I related to Melissa?_ He'd blanched at the phrase _first cousins once removed_. _First cousins? _He kept saying it over and over. _First cousins? Like Deliverance and West Virginia? Oh. That's just – not right._ The next day, Jim's demeanor toward Melissa vacillated wildly. They'd engage in snappy banter, conversations filled with irrepressible laughter – until he remembered. _First cousins._ And his countenance would suddenly shift to indifference and detachment; his tone, stilted and formal. But the two were kindred spirits, so eventually he'd forget and the flirting would commence again. The cycle went on for several hours, until Melissa lost interest and spent the remaining time with her other cousins.

So, yes, Larissa could well imagine that Jim looked at Pam and thought _Engaged? That's just – not right._ He probably gave her enough mixed signals that she convinced herself of the safe conclusion: her best friend was a consummate flirt.

Larissa had often wondered what really transpired that night last May when Jim finally broke down and confessed his feelings to Pam. He'd told her about it when he broke the news that he was moving to Connecticut. She remembered asking him, _Don't you think you should give the girl a little time to process things?_ But Jim was adamant. _Mom. She's getting married in three weeks. I won't get another offer from corporate if I turn this one down and God knows how long it'll take to find a job somewhere else. No, I have to get out of there – now. I __**cannot**__ work with Pam_ _Anderson_.

He'd been so excited five weeks later when he reported that Pam had cancelled the wedding. He was sure she'd call him, tell him that he hadn't been wrong at all. Larissa silently fretted with her son for the rest of the summer, waiting for that phone call. He was befuddled and mystified and finally bitter when it never came.

Larissa suggested only once that perhaps Jim might want to initiate the call. She'd never heard an explosion like that from her son. Well, aside from the outburst with his father about Karen. For months after that he was reserved, a bit distant; so she never again ventured to offer advice about Pam. But, in her heart, Larissa was sure her son had totally botched things. By leaving abruptly, by not calling, by returning with this pretense of being in a relationship with a girl he barely knew. How many bad decisions could a young man make in less than a year?

"Hi."

Larissa's attention shifted to the door. Pam stood there looking timid but hopeful, laden down with several bags and a boom box.

"Is it ok if I come in?"

Larissa waved her in with her good hand. "Of course. Please come in."

After setting the bags on the bed, Pam placed the boom box on the window ledge, automatically plugging it right in.

Larissa motioned toward the bed with her good hand. "What all do you have there? This looks like Christmas."

"Oh! Well, like I said, we brought a few CDs for you." Pam fished several CDs out of the bag. "Let's see. We have _No Secrets, Cat Stevens – Greatest Hits, Hawaiian Slack Key Guitar Masters _and _Alone in IZ World_. Would you like to listen to one?"

"Sure. If you'd like to."

"Oh, I've really been enjoying the Slack Key Guitar one. I can see why Jim says it's one of your favorites; it's so relaxing. How about that? Ok, great." Pam opened the cover of the boombox and popped in the CD. As she closed the cover, she asked over her shoulder, "Shuffle or straight?"

Larissa smiled; Pam was nothing if not enthusiastic. "Let's try shuffle."

"Sounds good."

As the warm tones and soothing rhythm of the guitar filled the room, Pam burrowed further into the bag to pull out a couple of paperback books. "Jim also grabbed _Pride and Prejudice_ and _The Kite Runner_ in case you ever feel like reading a little bit. Or –" she hesitated, "Or, if you're too tired or if it's too hard to do with one hand, we can read them to you."

Pam rustled in the bags again and pulled out a long, slim folder and a blue spiral notebook, which she set on the night table beside the bed.

"What are those?"

"These? Oh, these are for our notes." Pam picked up the slim folder, "This is a business card holder. We've been collecting the cards for all your doctors. That way we have all the information in one place if we need to call any of them. And this –" she said, holding up the spiral notebook, "is where we've been keeping our notes of everything the doctors tell us. So we can keep everything straight, you know?"

Pam continued to root through the bags and pulled out a bag of Tootsie Rolls and a bag of Milky Way nuggets. She wagged them in the air before she dropped them into the drawer of the night stand with a twinkle in her eye. "These are for when you need a little snack. Or when you want to bribe a nurse or technician!"

"And … a little piece of home." Pam bit her lip shyly as she pulled out a few of the family snapshots that Jim had grabbed from his parents' house. She handed the small stack to Larissa and pulled a roll of scotch tape from the bag. While Larissa spread the photos on her lap, Pam began to tear off and roll strips of tape into little circles. As she finished each circle, she pressed it securely against the edge of the tray table. "I'll tape up some pictures, so you can have your family with you, even when they're not in the room."

Larissa felt her eyes begin to fill. "Thank you, Pam." She picked up a photo of Ted and herself, taken on their Valentine's weekend last year at the Skytop Lodge in the Poconos. They laughed at the camera, flush from exertion in the crisp, frosty air. If only she could remember the joke that they shared. She smiled ruefully to herself – she'd never imagined that a year later they could be in the hospital like this.

She handed the photos to Pam and watched her methodically position the tape at the four corners on the back of each photo. Pam mounted all the pictures to the white board near the door in an artful collage and stood back to scrutinize it. Turning back to Larissa, she nervously pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "I hope that's ok. If it's not, I can change it around –"

Larissa smiled. Obviously, it was very important to Pam that she approve of the effort. "It's beautiful. Really, Pam. Thank you."

"Great!" Relief washed over Pam's face as she pushed the guest chair toward Larissa and sat down. "Oh! One more thing I have to do. I'll be right back."

Larissa watched in puzzlement as Pam rushed out the door, returning a moment later.

"Ok, no dietary restrictions. I can get you _whatever_ you want from the cafeteria." Pam looked askance at the chicken tetrazzini on Larissa's plate and added, "I can see why you didn't want to eat _that. _Are you hungry?" Pam was full of nervous energy and seemed anxious to leave the room again. "I'll call you when I get down there and let you know what's on the menu today, ok?"

Pam barely waited for Larissa to nod her head before she shot out the door repeating, "I'll call you when I get down there."

Smiling to herself, Larissa surveyed the room. For the first time in days, she felt a small measure of tranquility. The music was so soothing and the photos of her family? She couldn't begin to explain how much better she felt just seeing all the Halpert men smiling at her from across the room. She just had to think positive. Somehow they'd get through this whole ordeal together. Larissa's eyes drifted closed as she slowly breathed in the notes of the guitar, drifting in the air about her. She was so tired. She'd rest her eyes for just a few moments.

A new song began, with a more lively tempo, and Larissa opened her eyes again. She ran her fingers through her hair. Tried to anyway – her hair was a matted, dirty, knotted mess. She probably looked like something a cat dragged in. Shaking her head, she reached out for the business card holder that Pam had left on the night stand. She supported it against the edge of the tray table and, with her left hand, opened the cover. Business cards were neatly tucked into the sleeves. Turning the pages, she saw they were grouped by practice. Orthopedic surgeons, internists, general surgeons. In all there were six cards.

Six doctors? Larissa couldn't distinctly remember a single one and she'd been seen by six? She looked up at the white board where Pam had mounted the pictures.

Today is:  
Sunday, March 18, 2007

Your nurse is:  
Ruth  
Your CNA is:  
Ayisha

Sunday. It was Sunday. She and Ted had been driving to Florida on Thursday when they had the accident. The intervening three days were a blur. Four really, since the accident was in the morning. The only clear memory she had was the one she kept trying to blot out – that image of Ted in the throes of his heart attack. Weren't people who had a traumatic injury supposed to forget everything in the moments leading up to it?

Larissa drew a deep breath and immediately felt excruciating, piercing pangs in her abdomen, as if she was like she was being skewered. She panted softly, holding very still, willing the pain to subside. When the pain finally passed, she gingerly moved the notebook into her lap and opened to the first page. She didn't recognize the writing, so it must be Pam's.

* * *

_Friday, March 16 (3 a.m.)_

_Mrs. Halpert has ruptured spleen and few hematomas (__internal__ bleeding/bruises). Broken tibia & fibula (3 places), shattered radius & ulna. Surgeon didn't do splenectomy (removing the spleen) but was able to repair it. Internal bleeding seems to be under control – they'll monitor blood count to confirm. Lot of screws in arm & leg._

_Michelle says it was good that Dr. Davis managed to save Mrs. Halpert's spleen. (Spleen very important for fighting infection.) She says Dr. Davis is really great surgeon – taught at Harvard Med. Sch. Knows her stuff._

_Mrs. Halpert is breathing w/o assistance and O2 looks good (97 – 98). Not on many IV meds. BP pretty steady. Kidney function is good. Overall, Michelle says Mrs. H is very lucky. Her injuries could have been far worse in an accident like this._

* * *

_Friday, March 16 – 7 a.m. (Dr. Davis)_

_When Mrs. H arrived in hospital, they did a DPL – deep peritoneal lavage. (Cut small incision in the abdomen & flushed abdominal cavity with fluid.) Fluid came out showing lots of blood, so they did exploratory laparotomy (exploratory surgery in abdomen). Did midline incision along length of abdomen. Recovery will take at least a month. Need to be careful of:_

_Dehiscence (Suture fails & walls of tissue don't meet. Gap is really bad. Mrs. H will need assistance getting up & down for a while to make sure sutures don't tear. Need to brace incision.)_

_Constipation (Very important not to strain. Will get stool softeners. Shd eat hi fiber food.)_

_Infection_

_Surgeons will stop by daily to check on sutures. Probably will remove them in 7 – 10 days._

_Mrs. H was in good health before accident, so Dr. D feels prognosis is good. Optimistic. Watch carefully for next 48 – 72 hours. She will be really sore for a while._

* * *

_Friday, March 16 – 8:15 a.m (Dr. Danziger)_

_Tibia & fibula broken in three places. Plate and 10 screws in left leg. Radius & ulna both fractured on shaft. Plates and 15 screws in right arm._

_Small chance that plates/screws will be uncomfortable for Mrs. H. Must stay in place for at least a __year__ to allow bones to stabilize. If uncomfortable at that point, can do surgery to remove. Two incisions each on arm and leg. Joints looked good on all bones, so chance of arthritis should be minimal. In general, bone density seemed to be good, so recovery should be smooth. Will talk about physical therapy/long term recovery more later._

* * *

_Friday, March 16 – 2 p.m. (Dr. Goldstein)_

_Internist group will be coordinating Mrs. H's care. So far, she is looking pretty good. Vitals are stable and surgeries were successful. Will be monitoring her for infection & anemia (to confirm no more internal bleeding)._

* * *

Larissa glanced through the remaining pages of notes. Some were in Jim's writing, but most were in Pam's. Her mind was too addled with pain, too scattered with worry, to fully understand what she was reading. Apparently the doctors were fairly optimistic about her condition; she got that much from the notes. And she wouldn't be playing any tennis for a while. That was clear, too. But beyond that? She just wasn't in any condition to process all that information. Too tired, too hazy.

She could tell, though, that Jim and Pam had been here pretty nearly every waking hour since they'd arrived. She flipped through the pages again. Every entry was dated with a time. And the times spanned from 6:45 a.m. till 9:30 p.m. So they were here looking over her every day. But she didn't remember that, either.

Larissa closed the notebook, shaking her head. Pam's writing filled so many pages, starting right from Friday. The business card holder, the notebook, boom box. They wouldn't have just had this stuff sitting around – and Jim would never have thought of all these things. She must have taken him shopping on the way to the hospital.

Larissa leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. This girl – whom she'd never even met yet still held in disdain – this girl had been looking over her, caring for her, for three days straight. She might not be able to comprehend medical jargon right now but this, _this_, was something Larissa could understand. Pam Beesly was in love with her son and was supporting him in any way she could. Perhaps she'd underestimated Pam's character all along. Larissa always trusted her son's judgment; she should have realized that there was a _reason_ that, as much as Jim repressed his feelings for Pam, he just couldn't extinguish them.

Now that her eyes were shut, an overpowering drowsiness settled over her. God, she was tired. As Larissa tried to relax in the huge recliner, she wondered if maybe she could sleep for just a few minutes until Pam called about…what was it Pam was calling about? Lunch. Lunch, she remembered, just as she fell asleep.


	39. Being With Someone

**Being With Someone**

Larissa's eyes fluttered open. She glanced around the room until her eyes rested upon Pam, still reading in the chair beside the bed, exactly where she'd been when Larissa drifted off to sleep. As she read, she turned the pages very deliberately, careful not to make a sound. Larissa had asked Pam to stay with her while she slept. Had she been sitting there, faithfully keeping silent vigil the whole time?

All afternoon, Larissa had felt the rancor she'd held for the girl subsiding, bit by bit. She didn't understand her but that feeling of contempt had vanished. She hadn't decided yet whether she _liked_ Pam, though. Before she could decide that, there were things she needed to know.

"Pam, why are you here?"

Pam started in her seat and turned toward Larissa, her face ashen. "I thought you wanted me to stay with you. I'm – I'm so sorry. I can leave."

As Pam jumped out of the seat and set down the book, Larissa touched her hand to still her. "No. Not why are you here with me right now. Why are you _here?_" Larissa gestured in the air, "In the hospital. For three days – and no signs of leaving. Why are you _here_?"

Pam stared, wide-eyed, at Larissa. "Oh. That." She sank back into the seat. "Well – well, I was the only one left at the office when Jim got the phone call from the hospital."

Larissa waited a moment but Pam didn't offer anything further. "You think _anyone_ who happened to be at the office would have come with Jim?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

Larissa quirked her eyebrow at Pam and waited.

"Jim said he couldn't get in touch with Jon. And he didn't want to ask Karen to come back from visiting her friends in New York. And he kept saying he didn't know how he could do this alone." Pam began to finger the thin gold chain that circled her neck. "So, I just wanted –"

"To be there for him?" Larissa warmly completed her thought.

Looking relieved, Pam nodded her head vigorously. "Yes! I wanted to be there for him. And my dad di–" Pam blanched, "Well, he was in the hospital for like a year and a half during my junior and senior year of high school. So I thought I could actually help Jim for once. He was always there when I needed him and I wanted to – repay a debt, I guess."

In an instant, Larissa's resentment toward Pam returned. What an irritatingly odd choice of words. So – transactional. Businesslike. She was damn right about how many times Jim had been there for her. Larissa had seen plenty of evidence of her son's unflagging support for Pam, both in the documentary and in conversations she'd had with her son.

"Repay him." Larissa repeated the words with an edge to her voice.

Pam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Sort of. I guess."

"For loving you."

Pam's voice was barely a whisper. "It sounds so bad when you say it like that."

"How could you do that to him?"

"What?"

"You know very well what I mean." Bitterness crept into Larissa's voice. "He _was_ always there for you. How could you lead him on all that time? Taking from him all that time? You had to know how he felt. It was obvious the way he looked at you."

"No!" Pam's voice began to rise. "No, I wasn't sure till he told me. You know, regardless of what they showed on the documentary, it's not like Jim was mooning over me all day at work. They filmed 25 – _twenty-five! –_ hours each week for the half hour they aired in" she angrily made air quotes with her fingers, "an_ episode."_

Pam stared out the window. "For a while I thought maybe Packer was right and Jim liked to hang out with me because I was _safe_."

Packer? Wasn't he the ass who –

"You thought Jim was _gay_?"

"It's not that crazy!" Pam indignantly retorted. "None of his girlfriends ever lasted very long. _None_ of them really seemed to be his type – not to me, anyway. He lived with Mark for _years," _Pam cast a frustrated, can-you-believe-this glance over her shoulder – as if someone back there would support her. "And _they moved from an apartment to a house together_. Do you know _any _other," she made air quotes again, "_roommates_ who've done _that_?"

Larissa shook her head thoughtfully. "Now that you put it that way, I can't say I have." She contemplated a moment before continuing, "And you thought he let people think he had a crush on an engaged woman because then no one would expect him to ask her out?"

"Exactly!"

"I have to admit, I can see it."

Pam breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Larissa tilted her head as she worked through her thoughts. "Did you tell Roy that you thought Jim was gay? Is _that_ why he was so cavalier about your so much time with another guy?"

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Pam admitted, "I might've mentioned it once or twice when Jim and Mark got the house. Yeah."

"That clears up so much." Larissa narrowed her eyes at Pam, "So – are you telling me that, until that casino night thing, you thought my son was gay?"

Taking a steadying breath Pam replied, "No. I kinda figured out that he wasn't gay. And, yeah, sometimes Jim acted like he liked me. But every time I'd think I saw something, he pulled back and I'd think I imagined it. And look at his girlfriends – I may not have thought they were his type but he _did_ pick them. And they were _nothing _like me. They were pretty and sexy and, I don't know, sort of sophisticated. And I'd think _He's gorgeous and funny and really nice. He can have anyone he wants. Why would a guy like him ever like a girl like me?__"_

Oh, maybe because Pam was pretty and funny and really nice?

"So why didn't you call him over the summer? Or after he came back?"

"I was afraid. But I did try to ask him out for coffee the day he came back. He told me he'd _sort of started seeing someone_. And now he's with Karen," she concluded sadly.

"So you've given up."

"I guess I felt like I had my chance and I blew it. Jim's moved on. He's with Karen now and that relationship's lasted longer than any of his others that I saw. If she makes him happy – I just want him to be happy." Pam paused, "Do you think he is?"

Well, no, he wasn't happy. At all. But it certainly wasn't Larissa's place to tell Pam that her son was miserable. That was a conversation that they needed to have for themselves.

"I don't really know, Pam. He doesn't talk to me any more like he used to. Not since he moved to Stamford."

Larissa could see tears welling in Pam's eyes as she whispered, "Do you think he can ever forgive me?"

"You're asking me questions that you should be asking Jim." Larissa spoke gently, "I won't speak for my son, Pam. And I won't tell him anything you shared with me." Larissa shook her head as she smiled, "You can decide if you ever want to tell Jim that you thought he was gay.

"But, seriously, Pam, you two need to talk. And _you'll_ have to start the conversation. You know you hurt him badly. You know he's not a risk taker. I really don't know what he wants from you anymore but I _can_ tell you that you'll never find out if you expect him to start the discussion."

Oh, Lord, the girl looked crushed. Larissa laid her good hand over Pam's. "I will say this – being with someone and being _happy_ with someone aren't _necessarily _the same thing. You, of all people, should know that, Pam."

Pam nodded in agreement as the two women lapsed into silence.

After a while, Larissa squeezed Pam's hand and nodded toward the white board near the door. "I never imagined this is how I'd spend my 30th anniversary. I thought I'd be having a margarita at the Half Shell Raw Oyster Bar right now. Tomorrow is our anniversary, you know. We booked a sunset cruise on Key West. That's how he proposed to me 31 years ago – right as the sun went down over the water."

"This is _nothing_ like the romantic weekend I'd envisioned. I won't even see my husband on our anniversary. I can't tell him I love him. Can't kiss him over a toast to another 30 years." She felt Pam's hand tighten over hers as she continued in a tremulous whisper. "Now I'm worried about having even _one_ more year with him."

Larissa looked forlornly at Pam. "I wish we could see each other. Even if it's just for a few minutes."

Pam took Larissa's hand into both of her own, her eyes full of helpless pity. Larissa morosely turned her face away.

Suddenly, Pam squeezed her hand excitedly. "Mrs. Halpert, I have an idea! I have a digital camera in my backpack and it takes videos. We are going to get some powder shampoo and a brush and make you beautiful –"

The way she said it almost convinced Larissa that it could be done – make her beautiful.

"– and we'll videotape your message to Mr. Halpert. You can tell him everything you want. And, if he feels up to it, we'll videotape his response to you. So you _will_ be able to see each other for your anniversary. How does that sound?"

* * *

_Thanks **shortcut2mushrooms** for the flurry of reviews! Made my day!_


	40. On the Advice of Pablo Picasso

**On the Advice of Pablo Picasso**

Key in hand, Pam hurried down the corridor toward their room. She had to get there quickly. The bus to Scranton would leave Washington at 9 p.m. and she had so much to do. Pack her stuff. Videotape Mrs. Halpert's anniversary message to her husband. Get up to the CCU to play the message for Mr. Halpert.

Say goodbye to Jim.

She'd leave the camera with him. Let him film his father's response. She definitely had to get out of the hospital before Karen arrived. She did _not_ need to run into Karen – not after that 7 a.m. phone call. She couldn't imagine what Karen would say to her – but she was _positive_ she didn't want to hear it.

Pam pushed the door open and tossed her purse on the floor as she rushed inside. What were the lights doing on? She was sure she'd turned them off when she left.

Oh! There was Jim – stretched out on the bed, his back to the door, sleeping soundly. If he'd slept through _that _entrance, he had to be exhausted. Pam approached the bed cautiously and sat gingerly on the edge. She studied his steady, even breathing – watching his collar rise and fall against the unruly curls at the nape of his neck. Her fingers itched to run through his hair, to feel the soft warmth of the skin beneath that collar.

These days of pretending to be married were killing her. She suspected Jim had been acting, but she _wasn't_. She felt totally relaxed when they were around other people during the day. How ironic that she could only express her feelings for Jim in public. Hell, she was _supposed_ to love him, right? But only during the day. To convince everyone that she _belonged_ there.

Well, she didn't have to worry about that any more, did she? Karen was on her way down and no one would enjoy the meeting if they ran into each other. Pam had to leave, so Jim could weave a convincing story, let Karen believe that she'd checked out of her own room and it had a new occupant already. That way, she thought despondently, he wouldn't have to convince Karen of the truth – that, although they _had_ slept in the same bed for two nights, nothing had happened between them.

Mrs. Halpert's comment suddenly popped into Pam's mind. _Being with someone and being happy with someone are not necessarily the same thing. You, of all people, should know that, Pam. _She hated to wish unhappiness on Jim but she sure hoped he wasn't happy with Karen. Although he still might not want her. And if he didn't? Well, after these last few days, she could never go back to the way things were. She'd tell him how she felt when he got back to Scranton. And if he said _no way –_ she'd just have to find a job quickly and get the hell out of Dunder-Mifflin. She couldn't bear to watch the two of them anymore.

The irony didn't escape her. She was planning to do exactly the same thing Jim did after Michael's casino night. She'd been hurt and angry that he hadn't given her a little time to respond after he told her that he loved her. She surely understood now.

Jim was hazily aware that Pam had entered the room and seated herself on the bed behind him. He should roll over and talk to her – if he could only shake himself awake. But, after the day he'd had with his father, he was dog tired and the pillow was so comfortable. He burrowed his cheek into the soft fabric and breathed deeply.

Pam watched Jim shift his position with a sudden sense of alarm, her heart beating wildly. Shit! She had a panic attack every time she contemplated confessing her feelings. How was she ever going start this conversation if she had this reaction even when he was dead asleep?

"Hey, are you awake?" Pam's voice barely rose above a whisper. Was he really asleep? She needed a dry run, a chance to try to get this right. When Jim didn't respond, she quietly continued. "I've got this great book of quotes by artists. There's one by Pablo Picasso that I've been thinking about a lot lately. '_Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.'"_ Pam blew out a long, shaky breath. "I have to tell you."

In his sluggish state, Jim vaguely registered that Pam was speaking to him. He couldn't quite make out what she was saying and he certainly couldn't rouse himself to respond – but she kept talking, anyway. It dawned on him that Pam didn't want him to hear what she was saying; she thought he was asleep. No, she _wanted_ him to be asleep. He had no idea how he knew this, but he was sure of it.

It drove him crazy that he could read her so well. Still. After all this time of trying to put her out of his mind. He'd tried to know Karen this well but he could never pull it off. She simply never enthralled him like Pam did. Karen's likes, dislikes, desires, fears – well, they just didn't imprint themselves upon his subconscious. He always had to think about them – a conscious, continuous effort that was tiring as hell. But with Pam, knowing her was like breathing – instinctive. It was exhausting to try to _avoid_ it.

Pam's breaths were shallow and quick. Jim could visualize exactly the expression that she wore: her head was tilted back with her eyes shut tight, and her brow was furrowed in concentration as she struggled to find her words. He was fully awake now, riveted, waiting to hear what she had to tell him.

"I knew you were special from the very first day I met you. You were smart and funny – and you had this sweetness about you. I knew right away that you'd do anything for someone you care about."

"I was happy with you. I had more fun with you than with anyone else – even Roy. I liked myself better when I was with you. And, before I knew it, we were having lunch together every day. Before you started, I asked Roy to have lunch with me most days. He loved it when you and I began our lunch dates because the guys in the warehouse always teased him about being whipped. He really hated that."

Jim snorted silently to himself. What a dick. Roy _would_ be more concerned with what Darryl thought of him than what Pam needed.

"I started to notice that, whenever I found something really funny, I'd think, _I have to tell Jim about this._ And then I wanted to tell you about anything that made me happy. Or to be with you when I felt sad. On Monday mornings I'd think, _I can't wait to see Jim today! I have so much to tell him. _And I'd feel all fluttery on the drive to work.

"I got to the point where I thought about you all weekend. I'd wonder what you were doing, where you were, who you were _with_." Pam laughed ruefully, "I wondered a _lot_ about your dates. Were they random girls? Where'd you meet them? Did they sleep around? In my mind, they were never good enough for you. Now I know I was jealous of them. I wanted to be the girl whose hair you played with in the movie theater. The girl you kissed goodnight. I can admit that now. But back then I told myself I was looking out for my closest friend, wanting the best for him."

Man, maybe he _hadn't_ been so good at reading her. He'd never had any inkling at all that she was jealous of the girls he went out with.

"The whole thing was so gradual that I didn't even notice what was happening. But sometimes I'd imagine that _I_ was the one with you. _With_ you – _that_ way. But I was _engaged_! I told myself _I__ shouldn't think these things about my best friend_ and I pushed those thoughts back. I told myself I just felt a normal attraction to a gorgeous guy – who happened to be my best friend. Hell, _every_ woman I know is attracted to you, Jim. Well, everyone except Angela. That day we had the fire scare – and we played all those silly games like _Who Would You Do? _ Well_, _Meredith, Phyllis and Kelly _all_ said, '_Jim, Jim, definitely Jim_.' None of them even hesitated – like they'd actually thought about it – a lot. I told myself, _This is perfectly normal. _ _Everyone_ _fantasizes about Jim_."

Holy hell, he was glad his back was to Pam! His whole body was flushed. _This is perfectly normal? _ _Everyone_ _fantasizes about Jim_? Almost two _years_ ago she wanted him? Shit! If he had known that when he kissed her that night … Or when she was sitting on his goddamn _bed_ at his party … Or at Christmas, when he stole his card from her Christmas present … Fuck! So many times he could have been a little more brave or romantic or _something_.

"But my fantasies kept getting more and more, um, _detailed_. And it felt _wrong_. I'd been with Roy since I was seventeen. And I knew, I _knew_ that, even though he ogled other women, Roy had never, ever cheated on me. Those fantasies made me feel dirty and sleazy.

"But when I was _with _you – _you _made me feel witty and fun and interesting and – well, _special_. I wanted to spend all my time with you but I hated myself for it. I don't think you can imagine what I felt like, Jim. I just kept hoping that, if I ignored my feelings long enough, they'd go away and I could be happy with Roy again."

Oh, he could imagine what that felt like, all right. Same strategy he'd tried with Karen. To no avail. This was uncanny. How could he have been so wrong? All that time, she struggled with the same feelings he had.

"And besides, I thought my feelings were one-sided. I mean – you could have any girl you wanted – why would you ever want me? Your girlfriends were beautiful. Sexy. _Way_ out of my league. The few times I let myself think about how I felt about you, I was sure I'd end up getting hurt."

She was nuts. No one was out of her league. And he would never hurt her. Well, except he _had_ –

"I was mortified to think you might figure out how I felt about you. I knew you'd be a gentleman and let me down sweetly. You'd say something like, 'You have no idea what your friendship means to me. I'm really sorry if you misinterpreted things. It's probably my fault.' You'd do that, you know? You'd make it your fault.

"At Michael's casino night, I was _shocked_ when you said you loved me. Said it _out loud_. My brain went totally blank and I said the same thing I imagined you'd say to let me down easy.

"When I came into work that Monday and saw your desk cleaned out, I lost it. Totally lost it. I tried to keep myself together but I kept looking for you and there was your empty seat and your desk looked – just – barren. I ran to the bathroom and I threw up for like half an hour straight. I've never been so sick."

Jesus! He'd often wondered what happened that morning, tried to imagine what her reaction was. He was so angry that the only image he conjured was one of Pam sitting alone on the roof sniffling a little bit. He'd been sure she couldn't feel the same raw, lacerating pain that he did – or she'd have reacted differently when he told her. When he kissed her. When he let go of her hands.

"I finally had to admit that I could never be happy with Roy – that I just didn't love him anymore. And all the trying in the world couldn't make me feel it again. That I was – no, I _am_ – in love with _you_."

Jim's heart was pounding in his ears. _She was in love with him!_

"I lied to Michael and said I had food poisoning so he'd send me home. I couldn't eat all weekend – had dry heaves for three days. I told Roy I was crying all the time because I hurt so much. It was true – just not the way he thought I meant.

"And I was mad at you. I couldn't believe you told me you loved me and then – just _left_. I kept thinking _I'm never gonna see him again_. And I knew it was all my fault. I felt like I was dying. Like I couldn't breathe."

Yeah, he knew what that felt like. He spent almost a year feeling that way.

"Roy tried to take care of me but I didn't even want him to be near me. And I was so stupid that even _then_ I was going to marry him. Can you believe it? I felt trapped. Everything was set and everyone in the world expected me to marry him. I didn't see a way out.

"The next two weeks were terrible. I felt sick all the time. I cringed every time Roy touched me. I told him he had to tough it out so our wedding night could feel special." Pam laughed sardonically. "Which was ironic because I'd always figured he'd get too hammered at the reception to actually, uh, _perform_ on our wedding night."

Jim laughed wryly to himself. He used to think the same thing.

"I kept that up for almost two weeks. Crying when I was alone, pretending that everything was OK at work, avoiding Roy at home. It was exhausting. I hardly slept and I couldn't eat.

Hardly slept and couldn't eat. Now that sounded familiar.

"Roy got really irritated and we fought. A lot. One night he stormed out to go drinking with Kenny. I had a hot bath and I just sat in the water crying. I cried until I fell asleep. I woke up wrinkled like a raisin, in a tub of freezing water. I thought to myself, _This cannot be my life."_

And here he'd spent all these months thinking she was unaffected by his leaving. But she'd been living in the same hell that he had.

"The next morning I cancelled the wedding. Roy wouldn't believe I was serious, thought it was cold feet. He refused to tell anyone. He said we should think on it for 48 hours.

"As the 48 hours wore on, he realized I did mean it. And he went through the roof. I've never seen him so mad. He kept saying _Ten fucking years, Pam. Ten years and you want to break up five days before our wedding?_

"I tried to explain why I wanted out without making it sound like it was all his fault." Pam's voice drifted off. "It wasn't all his fault, really."

So Pam. She would try to make it easier on that dumb ass.

"I couldn't make myself tell him what was wrong, so I said stupid things like, _We've grown apart._ I didn't say _I want someone who listens to me, who encourages me. Someone who sees in me the things that I'm afraid to see for myself. Someone who loves me because of – not in spite of – who I am._ Someone like you. Or like you used to be, I guess. You have Karen now. And I understand that." Pam's voice quavered as she continued, "You've moved on."

Nothing could be further from the truth. He hadn't moved on _at all_. Trying wasn't succeeding, just like swaying wasn't dancing.

"I've tried to move on, too. I've gone out with a few guys – but I spent all our dates comparing them to you. They never lasted more than a couple of days." Pam paused to gather her thoughts. "And getting back together with Roy? What a mistake. But he wanted me – and I had to feel like _someone_ wanted me. It hurt so much being around you all the time.

"The thing was, he wanted me but he still didn't _get_ me. I tried to convince myself it was enough to be wanted, that I didn't need to be understood. Tried to tell myself that I really wanted things to work with him this time. But I knew he'd be angry when I told him about kissing you, when I told him I _had feelings for you_. I think told him because I half-expected he'd get so mad that he'd break things off. Let me off the hook and I wouldn't have to do it. But I _didn't_ expect him to attack you! I never would've done it if I'd known that – you have to believe me."

Jim could feel the bed move slightly as Pam cried. He should just roll over and take her in his arms. But her tone of voice didn't sound like she'd finished yet. So he waited while she gathered a shaky breath.

"I never saw how cruel I was to you all those years. But since you came back with Karen, I understand. Believe me, I do. It makes me sick to think about the two of you _together_. But I can't help it. I think about it all the time."

Pam's voice broke and, in the lingering pause that followed, Jim knew exactly where her tortured mind was taking her. He'd gone down that road all too many times himself.

She sniffled back her tears. "I'm so sorry for all I ever did to hurt you. I wish you could forgive me. I don't want you to love Karen. I want you to love _me_." She whispered a barely audible plea, "Love me again, Jim. Please?"


	41. You Love Me

**You Love Me**

"I'm so sorry for all I ever did to hurt you. I wish you could forgive me. I don't want you to love Karen. I want you to love me. Love me again, Jim. Please?"

_Holy_ _fuck! _She _did_ love him! He never misinterpreted _anything_!

Jim felt exultant, ecstatic – _euphoric_. He couldn't remember ever feeling _this_ excited about anything in his life. She loved him. Pam _loved_ him. Pam loved _him_!

But – damn! – she was crying. She was sitting two feet from him, crying because she thought he loved someone else. Would she be pissed off if she realized he'd been listening the whole time? Didn't matter; he had to respond _now, _keep her talking _now_. God only knew what would happen if he let her leave and just waited for another time when she was overcome with emotion or bravery or whatever the hell had just happened. No, this was it – he _wouldn't_ let them blow another chance. But he'd have to do this just right; Pam was only able to say the things she just did because she was convinced he was asleep. As soon as he moved, she'd jump up and run away.

Rolling over to face Pam, Jim said, "I do love you." He didn't need to see her to know how she'd move; he reached blindly behind him and caught her hand, flying to her necklace as she leapt off the bed. Now that he'd fully turned toward her, he could see she was beginning to cry harder, shoulders shaking, her whole face contorting with the effort to just _stop_. "Pam, you have to know I love you. I tried so hard not to, but I … just –"

Jim slid up to the head of the bed, arranging the pillows into a wedge to lean against. He opened his arms to her, "C'mere." Wordlessly hiccupping and nodding her agreement, Pam nestled against him, burrowing her face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. So sor–" Pam shook her head against Jim's shoulder; he could feel her chest filling in fits and starts as she took a deep, unsteady breath.

"Shh. No, it's ok." Jim kissed the words into her hair as he gathered her more tightly against him. "No worries." He kissed her again. "I love you." Rocking her gently, Jim fingered the ringlets curling against Pam's shoulder. "Shh."

Jim rested his chin against the top of Pam's head. He'd imagined this so many times – lying in bed, wrapped around Pam Beesly. But, in his dreams, his shirt was never soaked through with her tears. In his fantasies, Pam only cried about that worthless piece of shit, Roy. In his fantasies, as Jim comforted her, she finally realized who really loved her. He never, _ever_ imagined that he could inflict this kind of pain on her himself. Didn't believe she cared enough about him to hurt like this.

How could two people love each other for years – _years_ – and be so totally clueless about what was going on in each other's heads?

"You love me." Jim didn't try to hide the wonder in his voice. "I can't believe you love me."

Pam nodded fiercely as she pressed herself closer to Jim. When she breathed out, he could feel her body begin to relax against his.

"Hey."

For the first time since he'd spoken, Pam turned her face toward his and looked directly into his eyes. She still didn't look sure of herself, so Jim kissed her lightly on her forehead.

"I love you."

Pam smiled a tiny smile, her furrowed brow looking somehow rueful and hopeful at the same time. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

He could feel Pam smile into his shoulder as her left hand began to wander idly over his chest.

"Well, I love you, too."

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to telling me again."

Jim felt Pam's hip shift toward him and the next thing he knew her left leg was intertwined between his. Her arms snaked around his torso and suddenly it felt like last night. Well, not _just_ like last night. He was exhausted, drained from the day; and Pam was obviously just as spent. He didn't feel that same frantic sexual tension he'd felt the night before. This was more peaceful. Right now it was enough just to hold her, to feel her sigh happily against him. The fingers of his left hand traced a path up and down Pam's left arm, wandering from her shoulder to her elbow and back. She shivered against him with a contented sigh. Hmm, so she liked the sensation of a light caress. Good to know.

Pam suddenly stiffened slightly as she spoke into Jim's shirt. "Jim? Um. Is – is Karen coming down here now? Do I need to, you know –"

"No. No, she's not. I don't think you'll have to worry about running into her down here. At all." Jim blew out a breath before he continued. How much to tell her?

"She pretty much cut me loose this morning. Told me I'm a prick and –"

"But you didn't _do_ anything!" Jim smiled to hear Pam indignantly defend his honor. So adorable.

"Nah, she was right, Pam. She says she deserves a guy who wants _her_ instead of pining after someone else. And she does, you know. Karen _is_ a great person. She's just not _you._"

Pam propped herself up on her elbow and squinted down at Jim, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Hey," Jim cradled her face with his right hand. His thumb gently pressed her chin upward so he could see her face while his fingers brushed her cheeks, tenderly swiping away the tears from her eyes. "There's never been anyone but you. You're everything I want."

Pam's eyes drifted closed as she smiled a kiss against his lips, barely grazing them before she backed away to study him. She held his gaze for a moment, then her eyes followed her fingertips as they traced Jim's features … along his eyebrows and out to the sensitive outline of his ear, trailing the line of his jaw down to his chin and up to his lips. Christ, she looked _reverential_. No one had _ever_ looked at him like that before.

Jim pressed the small of her back, drawing her in the few inches to close the gap between them. He felt a growl rise from his chest as Pam threaded her fingers through his hair and parted her lips to breathe into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and barely brushed the tip against hers. She sighed into his mouth as their tongues danced delicately together. Fuck! He'd never felt like this before. He felt – connected to Pam. Whole. Like he suddenly had something that he'd been missing.

His hands began to wander, exploring Pam's curves. His left hand stroked her back, pushing aside her shirt, seeking the soft warmth of her skin. His right cupped her ass and pressed her urgently against him, feeling very pleased with himself when she moaned – appreciatively? – into his ear. Yes, that was _definitely_ the sound of a woman who was _impressed_ with what she was feeling. She had _no idea_ what she was in for. After all these years of waiting, he was going to make her feel things she'd –

_Lean on me, when you're not strong  
And I'll be your friend  
I'll help you carry on_

Pam leapt away from him. Jim propped himself up on his elbow in irritation.

"Where are you going?"

"It's my phone." Pam grabbed her purse and began to rummage through it.

Jim dropped his voice to the low rumble that women always responded to. "So, let it ring."

Jim hid a self-satisfied smirk as Pam's eyes drifted closed and she inhaled deeply at the sound of his voice. But then she shook her head with a worried look. "I can't, Jim. It's your _mother_."


End file.
